


Son Rising

by MueraRashaye



Series: Friends Across Borders [8]
Category: Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Blood Magic, Bromance, Civil War, Corrupt Priests, Espionage, Expedience, Gen, Ghosts, Headcanon, Monsters, References to witchburning, Revolution, Set it on fire!, references to rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-17 17:28:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 83,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2317526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MueraRashaye/pseuds/MueraRashaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wheels of revolution turn slowly, and occasionally need obstacles burned to ash.</p><p>Just as well Solaris had a Firestarter on call, burning things to ash was what he did. With a Witch-Enforcer at his back and an increasingly supportive unit falling in behind, His Holiness Firestarter Dinesh was looking to expand his job description. The term 'troubleshooter' comes to mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choices

“Think this is going to work without me running away and you setting fire to things in my wake?” Anur finally asked, depositing a mug of tea in front of Kir, dropping into a chair across from him. They were sitting in Kir’s quarters after a long day started with wiping out a bandit group and drawn out plotting how to integrate Anur into the 62nd. Kir had woken up in the middle of their scenario planning, and with him awake it hadn’t taken long to get a basic plan of action hashed out.

“I have hopes,” Kir sighed, picking up the tea with a nod of thanks and staring at briefly before taking a sip.

Anur let the silence rest for a moment, fire crackling in the small hearth next to them, but he had to pursue something he’d realized as they debated.

“Something is coming, isn’t it,” he stated, rather than asked, “To change things entirely. You wouldn’t agree to my being here for more than brief messenger runs if you didn’t think your unit becoming acclimated to Heralds was _important_ , and important beyond their service here at the border.”

Kir hesitated, before smiling wearily and setting his tea down on the low table again, standing and walking to his desk as he replied, “Yes – you’re right, Anur. It would be too much of a risk, to all of us, if there wasn’t a change in the winds.”

He returned to his seat, letters drawn from a false-bottom drawer in hand, Anur now even more eager for an explanation but willing to wait it out. Kir flipped through the letters, running his fingers over the ink in what was clearly a meditative gesture, before he finally spoke again, asking slowly, “Do you remember, that day with the supply train, the message you relayed from Asher?”

Anur thought back, frowning as he tried to remember the exact wording – it escaped him, but he remembered the gist. “Some message regarding a rising son, where he spelled the word for a relation rather than the actual, you know, sun in the sky,” he finally said, before remembering what Kir had interpreted that message as. Raising his head to stare at his friend incredulously, he demanded, “A female Son of Sun? That was – that was actually _it?_ How can you be sure?”

“I met her,” Kir replied, a rueful smile on his face, “The day after I told you it was impossible, in fact. A red-robe priestess, by the name of Solaris.”

Anur listened to the story of how he had met this woman, the miracles, the other two members of the troika, the soldiers of the 21st – he could easily see Kir’s absolute _belief_ in this woman, hells, he could nearly _taste_ it. And Kir wasn’t alone, it seemed – the two Sunsguard he’d officially met earlier, they certainly believed in her coming. He wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of the 62nd was not only aware, but certain that this Solaris was indeed the Ascending Son who would bring Karse back to a sane way of doing things.

It explained a lot, actually.

“That’s what happened with Gero, then,” Anur was curled up in his chair at this point, chin resting on his knees. “And this whole – arrangement, starting. I wondered why your commander was willing to take the risk – you’re all hoping the entire thing isn’t discovered until Solaris comes into power and announces that Valdemar isn’t the land of demonspawn and witches.”

Kir’s eyes tightened at the mention of the conscript he’d killed, but Anur counted that as a definite improvement compared to the utterly distraught friend he’d comforted a few moons before. “That’s the hope, at least,” Kir agreed, leaning back in his chair, letters in his lap, “It will be another year at least though, until Solaris takes power officially. I am planning on three – if it is less, I will be pleasantly surprised, if it is more, I will be in the habit of civil war by then.”

Anur winced at that, but didn’t say anything. His knee-jerk reaction was to insist he’d be there every step of the way, but this was bigger than rescuing a few individuals accused of witchcraft, even bigger than agreeing to collaborate between two border guard units in more than just intelligence swaps, and wasn’t something he could rush into without thinking through.

_:Aelius? I want to help, but I can’t as a Herald.:_

_:Very true, both for personal safety and politics. But… Chosen, I don’t see any sort of arrangement working out without someone on our side deciding to play hero and interfere.:_

“You cannot tell your people Herald,” Kir interrupted their conversation, relaxed posture entirely gone, the priest leaning forward intently, urgency in every line of his body. “If you tell them – if you tell them they will want to interfere, and interfere blatantly. You are subtle enough and I can already tell you that the only reason you will not be questioned or exposed is because of your position as my Enforcer and the Captain’s willingness to cover for us. If they send anyone else across _knowing_ what is going on – hardly anyone in _Karse_ knows what is going on, if your people’s agents know then – then they may expose and ruin everything.”

 _:Even if they don’t, if there’s any breathe of Valdemaran aid in getting her_ on _to the throne, or whatever they call it here, her entire reign will be discredited and a female Son of Sun will have enough of those troubles,:_ Aelius agreed.

Anur relayed that statement to Kir, who relaxed, clearly relieved that one of them, at least, understood. “Exactly,” he said quietly, hesitating before continuing, “And I am sorry, Anur, to put you in this position. I don’t have any right to ask you to betray your country like this, but _please_ –“

Raising a hand, Anur stopped him in his tracks, eyebrow raised as he said seriously, “Kir. You’re not asking me to betray my country. We’re not engaged in hostile action against Karse, Karse is not seeking war with us – rather the opposite, in the long run. While my withholding intelligence could be… argued, as something suspect, it is no _treason_.”

He had to pause though, again holding himself back from impulsively offering his services entirely to this revolution, this _chance_ his friend was certain was coming. It wasn’t just him he had to consider after all, _:Aelius?:_

_:I am with you Chosen, whichever path you choose.:_

_:Even if it results in us no longer being welcome in Valdemar?:_

_:I’d like to see them try, but yes, Chosen, even then.:_

_:All right then.:_

“Aelius and I want to help,” Anur finally said, smiling at Kir’s surprised expression, “They’ll be angry with me, I’m sure, especially when this all goes down and they hear crazy rumors, we’re already getting some good ones from Rethwallen, but this is too good a chance to pass up. Kir, we might be actual _allies_ someday – hells, even not being enemies would be amazing! Can you imagine?”

Kir had his own smile now, growing to a grin as he said, “Oh yes, I most certainly can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is probably going to be the longest installment of the entire series - right now, I have ideas for 20+ chapters, of varying length. They will all be chronological and will hopefully flow from one to the other. Only problem is, I have vague ideas for each and concrete ideas of what MUST happen by the end of the whole thing. This means I can either wait until all 20+ chapters are finished and polished up, or post them one or two at a time and make minor edits to the preceding chapters as needed.
> 
> I chose option 2, obviously. If something critical is changed and needed to understand the latest chapter, I'll summarize the change in notes at the top and then detail which chapter was changed to accommodate. I don't think it'll happen, but 80% is nowhere near 100.
> 
> Anyway, as always, reviews and suggestions are welcome, thank you for reading and hope you enjoy.


	2. Disguises and Other Details

“Goat skin,” Kir said dubiously.

“Well dyes don’t make sense sir, they’d wash out and need to be reapplied and making sure the markings remained the same from time to time would be inefficient,” Balin explained, having approached them with Lieutenant Korisho regarding ideas to disguising the blasted glowing white witch-horse.

It hadn’t taken long for word to spread that the white horse actually was one of _those_ white horses, and that the rider was in fact the new Enforcer, which meant if anyone wanted to pick bones with it, they could go take it up with Father Kir.

No one had thought it worth it, which, unfortunately, Kir was certain was far more out of fear for him, only recently re-established, than it was willingness to accept Heralds and Witch-horses as non-demonic entities. Maybe in the abstract they agreed, but in the day-to-day? It would take some time.

Though these two were promising.

“Dye wouldn’t hold anyway,” Anur contributed, leaning against the stable wall, Aelius standing in an open loose-box, the only one in the place. “Just bleaches out.”

“That is obnoxious,” Kir informed him, and the witch-horse snorted and nodded in agreement, Devek twitching, Balin entirely ignoring it. Interesting.

“He can manage hooves and eyes and not _glowing_ white, retaining dirt and such, but that’s the most he can limit,” Anur continued, “But the goatskin – possible. How would it work exactly? The securing it?”

“Well it’s a similar enough texture and _look_ that as long as no one outside those in the know worked with him, they wouldn’t be able to tell it wasn’t his natural coloring. Adding some black goat-skin cut irregularly would make him a paint, not white,” Balin explained, “It’s also relatively cheap.”

“And re-usable, once we get the attachment method down,” the Lieutenant pointed out, “There might be times you _need_ to look like a White De – ah, a Herald horse?”

“Companion,” Anur replied, easy smile on his face, “Kir still calls him witch-horse.”

At the startled looks, Kir raised an eyebrow and didn’t say anything. As far as he was concerned, Aelius was a witch-horse, the rest were Companions. It was as simple as that. Courtesy was important, the blasted beast should have known that. Besides, it was amusing, and he had too few amusements to sacrifice one so relatively harmless.

“I can collect black horse-hair and create attachments for your mane and tail as well,” Kir spoke directly to Aelius at least, so he was no hypocrite. “As for securing the skins, it would have to be a glue of some sort – possibly combined with mage-work depending on the effect of rain.”

“Hmm – maybe some of the stuff the medics use for sealing wounds?” Korisho suggested, “The – _your_ coat would also have to be brushed to blend over the skins so it wasn’t abruptly a straight line of changing color.”

Kir made a mental note to suggest a commendation for the Lieutenant, he was very clearly unnerved by the idea of directly addressing a creature that looked like a horse and was supposedly Anathema, but managed admirably beyond white knuckles. Aelius apparently agreed with the statement, nodding slightly but making no further gesture of comprehension – that would have been too much at this stage. As it was, judging by the slightly queasy look on Korisho’s face, it was still a serious shock to the system.

“We can get it,” Balin said, “Me and Galen, that is. The Captain approved a reassurance patrol to the shepherds, so we can buy it off them. Two or three skins should be enough.”

“Make it three, I’ll give you the funds tonight,” Kir said, Balin nodding agreeably, saluting Devek and offering Kir and Anur a brief, awkward bow of his head before turning on his heel and walking out.

“Lieutenant?” Kir asked, raising an eyebrow, “Is there something else?”

Devek noticeably hesitated again, visibly steeling himself before asking, “Would it be useful, in your estimation, to learn Valdemaran?”

Kir reined in his immediate shock, then nodded slowly, “You are planning on remaining in the Sunsguard, yes?”

“Yes sir, until I get forced out by age or injuries,” Devek replied.

“Then yes, it would probably be useful within a few years, if you transfer, and more immediately, if you remain here,” Kir tilted his head slightly, considering the Lieutenant thoughtfully before asking, “Are there others, interested in learning?”

“Maybe sir, I wouldn’t know for certain – we’re still… figuring things out. But with Lieutenant-Enforcer Bellamy here, and the blue uniforms that have been at some of our raids – it seems it’d be useful, here, to have more than just you speaking it.”

Kir didn’t bother to correct him on that, as Greich was approaching fluent reading and Ulrich was managing rather well in military-focused conversations, instead raising an eyebrow at Anur, who shrugged and nodded agreeably. “We’ll set something up,” Kir said finally, returning his attention to Korisho, “Depending on schedules. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Your Holiness, Lieutenant-Enforcer,” Devek did a peculiar salute that Kir recognized from classes before leaving – one the Sunsguard were taught to offer religious officials who held military rank, very seldom used. Interesting, very much so; he’d have to keep an eye on this one.

“So,” Anur replied, having returned the salute admirably – Greich had drilled him in proper Karsite salutes for a mark yesterday, “That was interesting.”

“Very interesting,” Kir agreed, walking over to check on Riva, “This may not be as bad as we prepared for.”

“What, the escape routes?” Anur smiled wryly, “Hopefully not. Do you need help paying for things?”

“No, I receive a basic stipend that I only really use on string,” Kir snorted, “And I have plenty of that. Besides, you’re receiving one too.”

Anur blinked for a few moments, clearly surprised, before asking slowly, “I’m receiving a stipend? How?”

Kir raised an eyebrow at the Herald; did the man think he’d just grabbed the uniform on a whim? “In order for this to work, there has to be paperwork proving I have an Enforcer under my command and protection. I filed the appropriate papers with Sunhame moons ago, I received approval a while back, though I’d already started collecting the uniform. For short-term things, just the uniform would work but just in case there was a need for you to stay in the long-term, I filed the papers.”

“You mean – there’s actually paperwork saying that there’s an Enforcer named Anur Bellamy floating around? They _approved_ that? I can’t imagine it’s a particularly Karsite name,” Anur was still staring and Kir shook his head in disbelief, of _course_ he had gotten it officially approved, it added quite a bit of security to the entire thing.

Given, he had also made it look like a bit of a joke, what with the second request he had sent in, but at least it had made it very obvious that no one in Sunhame was actually reading his notices.

“The way it was worded made it very obvious to anyone who read it that it was a sarcastic attempt to gain attention,” Kir explained instead, “So since no one has actually read it, and simply approved everything, we might as well take advantage. I worded it that way so it could be dismissed if they asked me about it. Sunhame hasn’t responded to reports of blood magic after all, I sent in some official ones after I heard about the hunting party. This was to see if they even read what I sent in.”

Aelius looked over at him and Anur raised an eyebrow, relaying, “Aelius and I are both surprised at that, he wants to know if there is any chance that it’s actually due to co-conspirators instead of willful ignorance.”

“It’s entirely possible,” Kir allowed, “Unlikely, it may just be an acolyte’s idea of a prank, fulfilling some obviously pointless requests, or it could be simple compliance to keep a Firestarter from storming Sunhame in indignant rage. I don’t think she has had enough time to build those sorts of connections in Sunhame itself, but I don’t know.”

“Huh. Well, at least I won’t be an undue burden on the unit’s finances,” Anur shrugged, apparently accepting the situation. He quickly started grinning, “I wonder if anyone else has become an official employee of Sunhame?”

Kir knew very well he was referencing his Heraldic brethren, and snorted, “Post Choosing? I highly doubt it.”

“Excellent! Bragging rights shall be mine!”

“I’ll get you the papers.”


	3. Meeting of Minds

“Ha!” Naomi whooped, Anders sighing in resignation. That sort of joy meant more work for him, especially since it came from a letter carried up by pigeon from the south. Herald Anur had gone off to Karse again after the whole firestorm incident, not that any of them could blame him, and no one had heard from him since. Given, it had only been a few weeks, but they, at least, had been concerned.

Not too concerned, since it was by now more than obvious that their Herald’s priest could take care of things on that end, but concerned.

“Captain?” he prompted, “News from Herald Anur, I assume?”

“Yes, and good news at that!” she grinned over at him, “He’s talked them into a meeting! An actual meeting! We’re to meet at the border in two days time, myself and one other officer. They’re bringing their Captain, an officer and of course the priest and Herald.”

“That’s great news!” Anders agreed, “Maybe the Herald can actually come back this time?”

“Doesn’t sound like it, sounds like they have another plan in the works,” Naomi’s grin was positively wicked, “It’s bound to be a good one!”

***===***pagebreak***===***

“What?” Lieutenant Korisho croaked, staring at the Captain in appalled shock.

“You’re the one who took the initiative to start learning Valdemaran, according to Father Kir it was your request that got that bizarre study group together,” Captain Ulrich pointed out, "I cannot take the Sergeant, he is not a full officer so his presence might be taken as a slight. Also, should the worst happen, he would be indispensable to Senior Lieutenant Nakel.”

Anur was standing in the hall, having come to see if the Captain was ready to leave, and debated remaining here to listen or sneaking away. It was good to know that they were worried, and that Ulrich wanted this to work if he was attempting to avoid insult, but probably not something they would be happy to know he had overheard.

“…Is that likely? Sir?”

“What, that the worst should happen? I doubt it. Not from the ones we’ve been collaborating with. But if someone from higher up the line gets word and thinks it’s too much of a risk, they may try to arrange something. Capital city types and the gap of opinions are things we’re a little too familiar with here,” the Captain replied wryly. “You’re coming, Lieutenant. We leave in a mark.”

“Sir!”

Anur quickly (and quietly, thank you Skif) departed, rounding a corner well before Lieutenant Korisho fully emerged from the room. It would do the man good to actually meet Valdemarans – Valdemarans that weren’t under the explicit protection of his priest. With any luck, this would get him thinking more explicitly about Valdemarans in general, maybe even Heralds in particular, and that would spread through the ranks. They had the Sescha twins serving that role in the lower ranks, at least somewhat, with those on high clearly for the idea of an alliance, which left the junior officers. From what he had seen and Kir had confirmed, Lieutenant Korisho was something of a leader for that group, so this was a good opportunity to reach them indirectly.

And Kir claimed he couldn’t do politics.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“By the – what have you done to your Companion?” Naomi asked with clear shock.

Anur cackled, “It’s good, right? Scout Sescha’s idea, goat skin patches adhered and woven, with mane and tail hair woven in to match.”

Kir shook his head ruefully, of course that was the first thing they noticed. It was a bit of a shocking transformation. Between the two of them and the Sescha twins they’d finally worked out the right mix of adhesives and mage craft to get the additions attached firmly, and after some careful combing they looked natural enough. More than enough to keep people from fingering Aelius as a witch-horse out of hand, and so long as Kir was able to run interference and neither of the Heraldic pair did something truly stupid, he was confident it would hold.

“Captain Naomi Mecal, Captain Ulrich Drehr,” Anur finally got around to making the introductions, “Lieutenant Anders Corinth, Lieutenant Devek Korisho. And you both already know Kir.”

“Good to see you again,” Corinth said to him, “Been a bit odd, not having him underfoot, to be honest,” he continued, jerking his chin in Anur’s direction, who scoffed wordlessly.

Naomi snorted, dismounting and all of them following her lead. She took a step forward and held her hand out to shake, Ulrich taking it firmly and without hesitation. Kir might have taken a mark or two to prepare the Captain for the fact he was going to be meeting a military woman and treating her as his equal in rank. Fortunately, there had been no question as to who the commander had been in many of the incidents reported during the intelligence exchange, so he’d had time to get used to the idea.

“Good to meet you,” she said in rough Karsite, “Apologies for butchering your language.”

“Worse are my attempts,” he replied in dry Valdemaran, “Tongue backwards, is.”

Mecal barked a laugh, looking between the two Karsite officers thoughtfully, “How long have you been learning Valdemaran?” she continued to use Karsite.

“One year, seldom,” Ulrich replied in kind, obviously relieved to be in his own tongue, “Lieutenant Korisho has only recently started.”

“Not much call for it, sir,” Korisho replied, finally somewhat at ease in their mismatched group after two days. He wasn’t flinching when Aelius did something un-horselike at least.

“Truer words,” Corinth snorted, “Besides, think Hardornen’s been a bit of a priority for all of us lately.”

“On that note, best get to business,” Naomi sighed, handing her reins to her lieutenant who quickly tied the horses off to some scrub brush, Devek following his example with Ulrich’s horse, Aelius leading Riva off to a different patch.

“Right,” she said, all of them sitting on the ground at this point, surrounding the map Kir had pulled out. It was filled with details on the usually sparingly noted dead-zone with a few extra markers serving as his own personal reminders as to locations; it was a map he and Anur knew well. “So, I’m guessing there’s more to this than the standard intelligence swap and planning session, and that it has a lot to do with that new uniform Herald Anur is wearing.”

“On our part, there is the worry that we may need to exchange information without these two to serve as intermediaries,” Ulrich said, nodding towards Kir and Anur. “Also, this alliance has been going on near a year, I thought it was about time I met my counterpart.”

“Well I appreciate it, like having a face to a name,” Naomi grinned, turning to Anur and saying, “You’re staying in Karse then.”

“Yes,” Anur said promptly, before hesitating, “Well, depends, really.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll cover for you,” Lieutenant Corinth sighed, flapping a hand idly, “The Captain and I already discussed it. You always get twitchy when capital sorts are around and since this whole thing started you’ve been more than eager to go off on random barely applicable runs. Guessing this is one of those plausible deniability situations?”

“I’m going to be acting in Karse, and in such a way that if I’m caught, the Queen will need to be able to disown my actions, and you guys are in this deep enough already, it’s safest for you if you don’t know any more than that. Just – it’s going to help, against Ancar. Slow acting stuff, long-term, but it’ll help and a lot,” Anur informed them, Kir honestly shocked that these two were so willing to cover for Anur. Certainly, Heralds were respected, and Anur was a very approachable and friendly person, but to this degree?

“Figure we’ll just say you’re out on patrols,” Captain Naomi shrugged, “You were always out on them anyway, so it’s not like it’ll be difficult. Up to you to worry about the whole Mindspeaking business, not much we can do there.”

“Aelius has that covered,” Anur replied confidently, a smile on his face, “Thank you, Captain.”

“Bah, I haven’t had this much fun in years,” she waved it off, “And those bastard brigands are scrambling, Ancar’s been beat back for another little while – why not spread the good cheer? Just be careful. Wearing a uniform with backing will help, but you can still give the game away in a million tiny ways.”

“I know,” Anur replied solemnly, Kir nodding shortly in agreement, understanding the serious look Captain Mecal cast his way. He had already sworn to himself that he would get Anur out of this revolution safe and sane and _whole_ if he had to burn a swath through the countryside himself.

“Besides that,” Anur continued, “I’ve already reported my intentions to investigate just what made it so the Skybolt’s mages couldn’t get across the border. That should give some breathing room.”

“That’s the reason they cut across Karse?” Ulrich asked flatly, “Because of their mages?”

“That’s what’s been said,” Naomi frowned, looking over at Anders, “You talked to some of them, what was it they complained about? Eyes?”

“Said they’d felt something staring at them incessantly, night and day, couldn’t figure out what it was no matter what they tried, and it just kept growing and growing until they started going crazy,” Anders shrugged, “Kind of think they were crazy to begin with, being honest. Eyes? Seriously?”

“Imagine it,” Kir said shortly, mind busily cranking away at scenarios because he _remembered_ that feeling, the watching, and remembered how Anur had gotten it to go away. “Being stared at, all day, every day. That feeling that you are about to get an arrow in the head, a knife in your back because someone is _watching_ you _incessantly_ , waking and sleeping, moving and resting. No idea what it is, no one else can feel it – paranoia, sleeplessness, madness – all understandable responses.”

Anur frowned, obviously recognizing the description, and he asked, “This – this was the _vrondi_ , then?”

“I believe so,” Kir replied, elaborating for the others, “I felt that staring too, when I used mage-craft inside Valdemar. I assumed it was the witch-horses keeping an eye on me, but later we were informed it was an air elemental creature called a _vrondi._ Apparently Heralds use it for this truth spell?”

“Right,” Anders said, shuddering, “Okay, maybe I’m a little more sympathetic to those mages. Ugh. How could you stand it then?”

Kir hesitated, before shrugging and saying, “I am used to it. You think we worked together so closely always?” Nodding to Captain Ulrich and Lieutenant Korisho, he continued, “I have been with the 62nd near ten years, and it is only in the past two or three that I have been able to sleep easy in the field, certain that at the very least, no one would risk seeing who Sunhame would send to replace me.”

Ulrich at least grimaced, but Devek just nodded, “My earlier unit was like that,” he supplied, to Captain Mecal and Lieutenant Corinth’s clear shock, “Hells, when I first realized the 62nd had a Firestarter, I was surprised he hadn’t been conveniently and tragically disappeared yet. It took a month or two before I realized the men weren’t _terrified_ of him. Respectful, fearful, certainly. But mindless terror and desperation?” he shook his head, “Not of Father Kir, at least.”

Unexpectedly touching, that. He hadn’t thought that even before the war with Ancar he was unusual in how he related to the Sunsguard – but apparently it could have been much, much worse.

Heartening, pleasing, in respect to his own relationship with his people. Very disheartening and sad when he considered what that implied about the rest of the Sunsguard’s chaplains.

“So, on a less depressing note, Kir ignored the _vrondi_ , I followed Aelius’ instructions and it left him alone – now the question is, why in the frosted hells are _vrondi_ running around staring at mages once they cross the border?” Anur jumped in after a few moments blank shock.

Kir shook his head, he was missing a point, “Not after they cross the border. I didn’t feel them watching me until I killed that Hardornen witch – and I’d been in Valdemar a full day by then.”

“So… not until you used magic?” Anur frowned and Kir echoed it, it didn’t make sense still, “No,” he denied, “I was practicing with Herald Griffon earlier that day and nothing happened along those lines.”

Anur opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Aelius, evidenced by the distant look in his eyes. “Huh,” he finally said aloud, before jumping to his feet and hauling Kir up after him, “Right, we’re going to go a little ways that way and figure this out, you four… discuss future bandit hunting projects, exchange tea recipes, tricks for archery, whatever you want! We’ll be back shortly.”

“Wait, what? Herald - !”

Kir sighed and let him pull him over a hill and out of sight. It was a good idea, to leave the four without their buffering presence, something needed if this was going to work in the longer term, but really. He couldn’t have been a little more subtle?

(When they returned a few marks later, slightly singed and stumbling, they found the four companionably setting up camp and exchanging stories. Maybe sometimes subtlety was overrated.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes the set-up. We get to some more action in the next one, half-done. No promises on a timeline. Thanks for reading, hope this works for you!


	4. Purifying Flames

“Ah…Lieutenant-Enforcer?”

Anur looked up from his most recent attempt to write his mother a letter (going badly) with blatant relief, “Oh thank – ah. Apologies, can I help you?”

Both scouts looked amused, the twin on the left actually smiling and asking sympathetically, “Reports?”

“Worse,” Anur shuddered, before hesitating and correcting himself carefully, “Well – not really. I’m able to contact my family, which is more than most here apparently, but still – “

“Oh no, we understand completely!” the other one interrupted, “We’re close enough that we can slip in some visits, but it’s all under the table and they _still_ expect sagas!”

“Exactly!” Anur grinned, “What am I supposed to write? Half of what I’m doing I can’t put on paper, the other half isn’t anything particularly useful or interesting, so what’s the point?”

“The point,” Kir’s voice came from behind, drier than the training grounds in midsummer, “Is to inform them you are alive, idiot. Did you two have a purpose in mind or shall I leave you to debating letter writing?”

“Actually, sir, letter writing is what brought us here, funnily enough,” the one on the right (Anur was at least seventy percent sure he was Galen), “You see, Galen here,” (blast!) “received a letter from Mal, ah – Malak Greves, he was an ensign – “

“Yes, he was often in your scouting squad and came with on the supply run,” Kir nodded, hands slipping into his pockets.

“The archer, right?” Anur asked, receiving a nod from all three of them. The two scouts were clearly surprised Kir had actually remembered this ensign. Anur, on the other hand, didn’t doubt that Kir knew the name and face of every soldier that had come through here, along with how they had died or if they had transferred. By the recitations of the dead that Kir could pull from memory, recognizing, if not truly knowing, his people was something he took seriously.

“Right, so we’d agreed to look each other up when we got out, maybe write a bit, and he got one through and it’s – well, it’s odd sir. We didn’t really want to bother you with it but Mal’s not one to panic lightly and, well… he says his village’s spring is running foul now and people are drowning on dry land,” Balin finally got the actual issue out, apparently deciding that getting it out there quickly was better than delaying.

Anur was startled at the sudden wave of heat, immediately getting to his feet and looking at the now ferociously focused Kir, twin scouts obviously alarmed at his reaction. “What does that portion of his letter say,” Anur asked quickly, “Exactly.”

“Ah… that bit’s useless, just for – here it is,” Galen cleared his throat and began reading.

_“…something odd is going on, seems witchy, of all things. Spring run for generations, suddenly gone foul and three dead spitting up water while they were walking on the banks, clothes dry. We can’t figure it, sent word to Sunhame but they’re far away and… they’re far away. So thought that we had a sort of expert in the 62 nd and if he could give some advice for our own priest that’d be much appreciated.”_

Anur was about to ask for details when Kir suddenly snatched the letter from Galen’s hand and strode away, calling over his shoulder, “We leave immediately!”

“Leave to where?” Anur sighed, turning to the twins and grabbing them by the collars as they turned to leave, “Oh no, first off, where’s this Malak Greves live and how far away is it? Secondly, I have no idea if that ‘we’ meant me and him, or if it meant all three of us so just in case we’re _all three_ getting ready to go, yes?”

They sighed as one, chorusing a dispirited, “Yes Lieutenant-Enforcer.”

Well, that was much easier than he anticipated, and this promised to put the letter on the back-burner entirely for a while! Excellent timing.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“Wait – are you saying that their water is being _haunted_?” Anur asked a while later, internally lamenting the fact that he wasn’t still sitting on the steps of the chapel, struggling to write a letter to his mother.

They had traveled east at a ground-eating pace before finally stopping for the evening at a traveler’s chapel. From his reading of the maps, they would arrive at Greves’ town early the next day. This ‘they’ including Second Scouts Balin and Galen Sescha. The twins had not been particularly pleased to find out that Kir’s ‘we’ had, in fact, included them, but they hadn’t been able or even willing to argue with the priest _and_ the sergeant.

“Think about it,” Kir had said shortly when he arrived at the ready and waiting horses, throwing his saddlebags over Riva’s back and tying them on, “He sends a letter and a Firestarter comes riding in with no explanation? They’ll assume he has one on call and he’ll be ostracized. Even claiming that a mediator was involved, with no proof it won’t matter. The only way is if we bring you two along as an introduction, you claim to have been concerned and brought the matter to my attention, and _I_ then decided an immediate response was necessary.”

The sergeant’s explanation was similar in spirit, if decidedly short on explanation and full on orders to work with Kir to resolve the situation.

None of which had actually explained what was going on to cause such an immediate and violent response.

“Possibly,” Kir frowned, swirling his tea idly. The four of them were sitting on the floor of the sacristy/residence area, bedrolls already set up, “Records are unclear as to details.”

“Details of _what_?” Anur asked, struggling to hold back his exasperation.

Kir finally seemed to snap out of the bizarre focus state he’d been in since the letter had been presented, and he blinked at the three of them before sighing, “I haven’t explained, have I?”

“No,” Anur sighed in relief, “You haven’t.”

“Apologies,” Kir murmured, pausing briefly before continuing, “Blood-magic poisons the land. Essentially… Hardorn is dying. Blood magic drains _life_ , drains _everything_ , and when energy from that sort of spellwork is disbursed, it poisons things. Formerly good springs turning foul are sign enough of something potentially malicious at work, though there are reasoned explanations most of the time, it is always worthy of investigation. After all, people need that water – if it is fouled for good, they often need to relocate, and that is expensive.”

Kir visibly shook himself, “Sorry, distracted. Anyway, the water alone would be something his own priest should deal with, but combined with drowning on dry land – entirely human evil is possible, but it is more likely that there is something wrong of a less material nature.”

“So since Ancar uses blood-magic, you’ve been keeping an eye out for this sort of thing,” Anur said thoughtfully.

 Kir nodded shortly, “Precisely. I thought it would be more likely for it to extend into Valdemar as his own ire is targeted northwards, but with those _vrondi_ actually serving as a defense, I’m not certain that there isn’t some protection offered from that sort of poisoning.”

“Which means that poison’s coming into Karse,” Galen said grimly, “This is only the beginning then, isn’t it?”

“In the worst case, yes,” Kir said bluntly, “And if that is the case, then I will have to present these findings to Sunhame directly and force action through, because if the land is poisoned it will take a true miracle to have it recover in anything less than a few generations. So long as it is the water, it is possible to purify it, but land is much harder to change either direction.”

 _:And the drownings on dry land? That doesn’t sound like an aspect of blood magic poisoning,:_ Aelius asked.

Anur relayed the question to Kir, who grimaced and demanded, “Think! To die under a blood-mage, controlled or given to them as a sacrifice – would you not be bitter? Be angry? Blood magic is _notorious_ for leaving angry spirits and echoes behind, if not worse. Planar creatures – like those _vrondi_ – are called by energy, the sorts pulled in by blood magic? Nothing benign, that is for certain. They are following the poison, I wouldn’t be surprised if the headwaters of this stream are well within the Hardornen border, that would explain much. If that is the case, I’m honestly surprised it has taken this long to see problems.”

“…So what can we do?” Galen asked quietly, “You said something about purifying the water – would that actually… fix it? Or just delay things?”

“It depends on degree,” Kir sighed, “Degree and whether or not Ancar dies anytime soon and the blood-magic use all across Hardorn ends. I’m going to have to inspect this stream personally, but since these drownings apparently occurred while they were walking the banks, I don’t know that I want any of you coming with me.”

 _:I can deal with haunts coming after you, Chosen,:_ Aelius answered his unasked question immediately, _:At least long enough you can tell Kir and he deals with them.:_

“Aelius can delay them coming after me long enough for you to deal with it,” Anur relayed, “So you’re not going anywhere without backup. What can you do against them, is it just your being a priest?”

“No,” Kir denied, before hesitating and shrugging, “Partially. One of the easiest ways to ward of spiritual entities is flames, they are considered purifying for a reason. And flames I think I can manage,” he ended dryly.

“We are more than happy to skip that particular side trip,” Balin agreed, “We can go into town and find Mal, get rooms set up? Two, paired off work?”

“Perfectly, we’ll deal with the horses ourselves of course,” Kir replied, “Remind me to give you the money tomorrow.”

“Of course sir. We’ll split tomorrow then? You two head off from the road to follow the river, we go straight into town?”

“Seems most efficient,” Anur shrugged, cutting a glance to Kir before continuing bluntly, “You’ll probably need the extra time to warn them a Firestarter and Enforcer are coming into town. I don’t think that’s something to leave as a surprise.”

“Mal would appreciate it, but you’re right, it wouldn’t be something to spring on them,” Galen agreed. “We can do that.”

As they finally split and settled in their bedrolls for a night’s sleep, Anur asked Aelius, _:Ghosts and magic monsters. Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea?:_

_:If you weren’t here, Kir would be going off by himself.:_

_:Right. Thanks Aelius.:_

_:Anytime, Chosen.:_

***===***pagebreak***===***

Hooves pounded up the road and unfamiliar tones drifted through the open windows of the inn, but Malak Greves didn’t twitch from his position over the largest table they had, map of the area stretched out across it with a depressing amount of pebbles weighing it down.

“Mal!” hearing his name, he finally looked up and his jaw dropped, “Balin? Galen?” he asked incredulously, straightening and pulling the two twins into a back-slapping embrace, “What are you two – you got my letter?”

“We did,” Balin, given away by a small scar over his right eyebrow, nodded, eyeing him worriedly, “Sorry it took so long for us to come.”

“Don’t apologize! It’s a miracle you got leave to come at all!” Malak refuted, sending silent thanks to Vkandis that Captain Ulrich was apparently a one in a million captain he’d never thought to find. “I don’t know how much help you’ll be, but any help is welcome,” he continued, waving them to the table, “Myself, Father Hanlik and Birni are the ones with arms experience here and it hasn’t amounted to much.”

“Has anything else happened? Fouled water and three deaths were what you wrote,” Balin asked, Galen examining the map and murmuring questions about the pebbles to Birni, who’d followed them in. The headman had very quickly taken a personal interest in the problem, even when it was just odd water – by the time their first death had happened, everyone knew there was a major problem.

“Only three deaths, thankfully, but… something else has started. People, they’ve been falling into a strange waking sleep. Three so far, two children and one… one woman,” Malak struggled with the last, closing his eyes briefly against the memory.

A hand rested on his arm, “You know her?”

Mal nodded shortly, “My wife.”

The twins hissed in sympathy, Malak accepting it with a nod before opening his eyes and returning his attention to the present and figuring out how to _kill_ whatever the hells this thing was. “Any warning symptoms?” Balin asked, moving to stand next to his twin at the table.

“For the deaths? Nothing,” Mal grimaced, “For the waking sleep? General tiredness, lethargy, not wanting to eat much, then full collapse within a day. They’re still – they’re breathing, they eat what’s put to their lips, swallow any liquid in their mouths, but they’re not… there.”

“Eyes are open, nobody’s home,” Galen said in a low sing-song, lips tightening, “ _Shit_.”

“You know what this is?” Birni pounced on that reaction like a starving mouser.

“Not personally but – well,” Balin smiled slightly, “Sounded witchy, to be frank. And with Hardorn being what it is, we brought the resident expert.”

“You mean -?” Malak began, almost feeling hope take hold again. The twins looked over and nodded, smiles on their faces, “He’s off investigating now, wanted to see the creek without prior bias or some-such. We came in to find you and give a heads up to expect four to stay until this gets resolved.”

Mal blinked for a moment, then he frowned, asking, “Four? Who else is – Lieutenant Korisho?”

“No, a new guy,” Galen grinned, “Though you’ve met him before.”

“A resident expert on witchy-ness?” Birni finally interjected, voice dry, “Why am I not liking the sound of that?”

Malak quickly turned to his headman, insisting, “No, Birni – this is _good_ news! With his help we might actually beat this thing!”

“And ‘thing’ is the proper word,” a welcome familiar voice said from the door, Father Kir walking in with impeccable timing, another familiar face following in his wake wearing a disconcertingly wrong uniform.

Malak stared at the Herald turned Enforcer in mute shock, before turning to the nearest twin and slugging them in the arm, “You, old friends, have been holding out on me.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir watched the twins take Greves’ joking reprimands with good spirits for a few moments; their antics allowed the headman and innmaster to regain his composure from the alarmed flinch he’d suffered at the sight of their uniforms. Old friends from the Sunsguard coming to aid was one thing, bizarre given Sunsguard leave policies for anyone under officer rank, but understandable and even welcomed. Those old friends bringing a Firestarter along?

No longer welcome past what aid they could give.

Having Anur at his back was a blessed comfort here. The 62nd would back him, he was certain, would shelter him from some of the typical backlash of his rank, but it was still relatively recent that they _weren’t_ among those flinching away from a sharp glance. Hells, after the Rethwallen army fiasco some yet again eyed him with wariness. With Anur he could get about his duties without excessive worrying about a knife in the back, saving time and energy for more important endeavors.

“The headwaters are here, a league into the Hardornen border – far enough in to be defined as such without being open to debate,” Kir said, tapping the point on the map. “The fact that the Son’s Springs feed into it here is the only reason you haven’t had more problems sooner, once you go past the Springs’ junction it becomes much more obvious that the water is poisoning the land.”

“Aye, we noticed that,” the joint headman-innmaster, who he believed was named Birni, finally spoke, still eyeing the two of them warily but at least willing to speak. “Didn’t dare go much past that junction, becomes a little iffy, territory wise, but we noticed – banks used to be green, lush. Now they’re all dead, instead of dead in spots like ours are.”

“We didn’t range further downriver, is it spreading?” Anur asked, Kir tilting his head slightly as he waited for a response, examining the map and internally estimating speed of the water and degree of pollution.

“Next town along the course is just starting to notice dead spots on the banks,” Malak replied, directing his answer at both of them, “They’ve been warned to stay away from the water.”

“That would do it,” Kir muttered, very grateful he had extensively studied the records of the early Firestarters and the true witches they hunted. He could have gone his whole life happy without ever truly encountering blood magics and the poisons they brought, but at least he knew what they might be up against.

“What is it, sir? Is it actually witchcraft?” Malak asked, an urgent edge to his voice. He had a personal stake in this then, more personal than his town being attacked and his people at risk.

“Of the oldest sort,” Kir replied grimly, “Blood magic poisons the land, with Ancar’s forces being primarily blood mages and Ancar himself practicing the cursed path, the entirety of Hardorn is succumbing to it. The border zones are probably the worst, with continuous energy seeping off and being drained, but anywhere with extensive blood-magic workings would have this poison. The headwater being well-within Hardorn, there’s not even the weak protection of being claimed by others to prevent its poisoning – it’s following the water. If you go close to the border you can see that the land itself is going sour as well, but water carries it more swiftly.”

“So that explains the bad crops, even the waking sleepers since we had wells from that water – blocked now – but the deaths?”

“Waking sleepers?” Kir asked, eyes narrowing, “That is… different.”

“Eyes are open, nobody’s home,” Balin chanted and Kir immediately recognized it, cursing aloud.

“I am surprised you know that rhyme,” he said, before turning to the map and scowling, “Unfortunately, that means we have _two_ problems to deal with. The drownings are caused by haunts, initially I thought they were malicious but with this they may very well just be… misguided. Fantastic.”

“Misguided?” Birni spluttered, “Those – they’re _killing_ people for walking on the banks!”

“Because there is greater danger in those waters,” Kir said grimly, bracing himself on the table, “ _Lothga_ , curse it all, it must be them.”

“Lothga?” Malak mispronounced, eyes narrowed, “What’s that, and what’s this rhyme?”

“My grandmother taught it, told it with scary stories,” Balin shrugged, “Basically symptoms and monster names. Not much else on them.”

“We were taught it as well, in addition to means of dealing with them,” Kir replied, “ _Lothga_ are nasty – from what I remember, they prey primarily on children. They… drain the soul, essentially. Lock people in nightmare scenarios until they just waste away.”

“So are we dealing with one of these things or a – pack?” Anur asked, clearly struggling to find the right word for a hunting group of soul-eating planar creatures.

“With only three victims in… how many days?” Kir asked, Mal replying, “Five. I wrote the letter nine days ago.”

“Likely only one then, they can only prey on one person a night,” Kir tapped the map with a finger, “Did they approach the water at any point after the deaths started occurring?”

“No – wait. Yes. The first boy, he would go down there to hunt rabbit,” Malak frowned, “But he didn’t go to the dead-zones, he went further downstream, wouldn’t it be safe there?”

“No,” Kir said shortly, “Poisoned plants need to first pull on the poisoned water, the water is ill first. _Lothga_ follow water lines – most creatures do, it’s a hunting strategy and energies are carried more efficiently in water.”

“Shit,” Galen mumbled, “And then it jumped to a different person.”

“Exactly,” Kir scowled, “And yet another. You said the third was a grown woman? How old were the other two?”

“First was eleven, second was nine, his sister. Once we realized it was contagious we kept the children away, but then my wife was hit, she’s our herbalist,” Greves replied, voice tight, and Kir winced. _Lothga_ preferred children as they weren’t as firmly anchored in the world as adults, they were more vulnerable. For Greves’ wife to have been taken so quickly, she was probably pregnant.

Considering he hadn’t mentioned it, she may not have even realized it yet. Marvelous.

“We moved them into the temple, that was two days ago, no one else has been caught by it yet,” Birni inserted.

“Trapped inside the threshold, makes some sense,” Kir frowned, “Can’t pass in, usually, but if it’s _carried_ in then it wouldn’t be able to get out – that’s good, gives us some control over the situation.”

“But how do we get it to let them go? Is it possible?” Malak asked, a desperate edge to his voice.

Kir heard it, but still only reluctantly said, “They have to be killed when they’re feeding. Those three are already anchored to it, to get it manifested and feeding again we need to provide it with someone else to latch on to.”

“No,” Birni said firmly, sharp gesture cutting of Malak’s objection, “ _No_ Mal. Synia’s your wife, I understand. You think I like this any more than you do? But we’re _not_ sending someone else in there to risk losing them too, especially not if this thing targets children.”

Kir winced, he’d hoped that aspect could be swept under the rug, but if this trap was going to be set up, it needed to be said.

“But Synia’s a grown woma – oh Sunlord,” Mal froze, apparently realizing what that might mean, and turning to Kir with desperate eyes, “Is it – she’s -?”

“It’s likely,” Kir said quietly, “ _Lothga_ latch on to vulnerable souls, children and infants are the most vulnerable around.”

He crumpled.

It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t stoic, it was a furious wash of grief and terror and rage and all Kir could do was watch. There was nothing he could provide to comfort him, hells, this was an enemy he couldn’t burn, not if it wasn’t there to kill. And the only way to kill it when it was hidden was to remove its victims entirely, forcing it to manifest.

Sunlord, that he would have to burn _children_ again.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur winced as Greves finally understood what it meant that his wife had been targeted by this _lothga_ thing. He almost winced again at the dead look in Kir’s eyes – he remembered that look, when he talked about his duties after Sunbeam Brook. There had to be another way, there _had_ to. Burning children again, so relatively soon after he’d become convinced he’d never have to again, so soon after he’d had to kill that Sunsguard – this wouldn’t be pretty. It wouldn’t break him, that he was certain of, but it’d do a hell of a lot of damage.

What was it Kir had said? Vulnerable souls, children and infants the most vulnerable. But this thing had been locked in with those three for two days, no new victims – so maybe it’d go for a slightly less vulnerable soul…

_:I do not like this idea, Chosen.:_

_:You got a better one? One where the bait has an equally good chance?:_ Anur demanded, _:Because I’d love to hear it.:_

_:…No.:_

_:Then my plan it is,:_ he took a deep breath before saying aloud, “Vulnerable souls – how’s one that almost made it to the judging?”

Everyone around that table turned to him as one, Kir’s expression immediately shifting to a harried worry, “Why?” he asked quietly, but it was too clear he already knew the answer.

Anur smiled wearily, “It got close, that time a couple years ago. And if this thing’s been locked in there for two days with no new victim, it may be getting desperate, desperate enough to go for less than ideal prey.”

Kir’s hands slid up his sleeves, a gesture Anur now knew was mainly used to hide trembling hands or white knuckles, though his expression returned to inscrutable. “This is a horrible idea,” he finally said, “But I have none better.”

“Just come in, fires blazing and kill the blasted thing,” Anur said with another smile, hoping that it at least sort of covered up how utterly terrified he was of this. If he hadn’t had Aelius lurking in the back of his mind, and known that Aelius could alert Kir the moment this _lothga_ thing started preying on him, he would never have volunteered.

“So, trap the _lothga_ and hopefully kill it tonight,” Galen said after a few long moments of tense silence. “Then deal with the haunts and purifying the river? What sorts of things do we need for that?”

“We’ll need your priest for this,” Kir finally answered, turning back to the table, “Locals have a stronger connection for these sorts of things.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Birni had been headman of the village for over a decade and had _never_ even _heard_ of anything like this. Not happening in real life! Just old stories, worn and weary tales told around campfires and at festivals to scare the young ones.

Sunlord, he would never be able to tell a story like that again.

He and Father Hanlik were carrying the unconscious Enforcer into the temple after the Sun Descending service, lying him down across a small aisle from Synia, near the altar. Initially the thought had been to put him right next to her, but the Firestarter had insisted on extra space – something about his flames needing the room to ensure he wouldn’t burn anybody.

When a Firestarter started talking flames it was safest to just nod and go along with it, so they had agreed.

Hells, they were already unnerved. Weird creatures, bizarre deaths – the entire thing was like an old hero tale! Then this Enforcer just _volunteers_ to suffer a potentially awful death and the Firestarter _agrees_ with the idea, albeit reluctantly. The reluctant agreement is the amazing part: agreement because he didn’t care, not too startling, refusal because he does and won’t risk it? Expected. But agreement because of duty and reluctance because of loyalty? Bizarre.

And the Enforcer calmly says he won’t be able to fall asleep, the Firestarter had best knock him out, and he just lays there and lets the Firestarter pinch his carotid until he passes out! Malak may have pulled him aside and reassured him that this Firestarter was _different_ , was actually a decent person, but there was a large gap between decent person and someone who could be trusted like that.

If they made it out of this, he was going to have to have a long and serious talk with Greves about just what the hell went on with that bandit hunting unit of his.

And for the first time in a long while, Birni sent up his own genuine prayer. _Sunlord, please let this work._

(because if that Enforcer died, they were _screwed_ )

***===***pagebreak***===***

It was a beautiful night. Summer’s heat hadn’t reached its peak yet and the evening was pleasantly cool rather than frigid. A half-moon shone down on them and no clouds were there to obscure the stars. One thing he had always selfishly enjoyed about being a priest, and a Firestarter in particular – the night had never held true fear for him, not from the Furies that kept people locked in their homes, keeping them from beautiful sights like this.

But he would much rather be stuck out on a temple’s front steps in a raging, freezing blizzard than stand here under the stars _waiting_.

Even running through his usual meditations failed to calm him – he couldn’t enter an honest trance state, not when he was terrified he would miss the signal.

At least he knew there _was_ a signal, rather than some ‘feeling’ that something was wrong. Oh, he had spun it, mentioned mage-craft and sensing energy balances, but it had boiled down to he would ‘know’ when the _lothga_ moved on to Anur and was vulnerable. Not the most exact method and not one he would ever risk his friend on, but they had an ace up their sleeves in the form of the witch-horse.

Not out here, that would require too much explaining and be too memorable, but in his stall, pretending to sleep, ready to battle-scream the signal Kir needed.

The Sescha twins and former ensign Greves were here, as was the headman and the local priest, a parish black-robe named Hanlik. A good man, from what Kir could see of his relationship with his people, a good priest, respected and loved. Seeing local priests like this, like Asher’s, always made him wonder where he would have ended up, had he decided to avoid the Firestarting Order. Would he have been like them? Loved and respected without fear, without honest _terror_ staring them in the face day after day?

But it was useless speculation, and if this blasted _lothga_ would get a move on he wouldn’t have to stand around _waiting_ any longer and the entire thing would be moot.

Actually, if he hadn’t been part of the Order, he never would have studied how to kill these things, and he may have been stuck in Hanlik’s position, watching his people die and being unable to do anything, not even able to give a name to the evil that plagued them.

He had always hated being helpless.

Something _shifted_.

“Now!” he cried, battle-scream of a Companion echoing through the night at the same moment he burst through the door, small lamps and Ever-Burning Flame roaring up to fill the temple with light.

Shriveled and blackened, the beastly thing hissed around fang-pierced lips, howling as Kir slammed into it with a blast of flame, “Anur!” he cried, worried – his friend was so _still_.

The Herald waved his hand, struggling to breathe, and Kir flung himself past him, standing between Anur and the _lothga_ with a fierce snarl on his face. The monster echoed it and warped, expanding into a vast cloud of inky smoke carrying whispers of people, of _faces_ within it and he finally, truly _hated_.

Striking wildly to get past his flames, the thing let out unnerving snarls and screeches as Kir tightened the circle, closing gaps so the stirring victims could be dragged out. It wasn’t until Synia was nearly out the door that the thing tried again, suddenly slamming out and _up_ raining down onto them and Kir shouted a wordless _kya_ , his flames flickering before flaring up around him and Anur again, the Herald finally regaining his feet.

“Lieutenant!”

A sword, Anur’s sword, they’d left it outside _stupid_ he should have grabbed it – came into sight and Kir knew it was a poor throw, no way was it going to make it – and it slammed into the Herald’s palm hilt-first. One expert twirl through the flames and Anur reared back, throwing it straight up even as Kir flared the metal to white-hot and the _lothga_ screamed, a screeching, hair-raising sound that Kir could have gone his whole life without hearing and it was dead. Steaming water splashed down onto the floor of the temple, sword clattering to the ground and water evaporating around it with a hiss.

“I’m alive,” Anur said blankly.

Kir cut short a hysterical laugh, pulling that ridiculous, _stupid_ Herald into a fierce hug and saying, “You are _never_ volunteering for something like this again.”

“If I try, just smack me,” Anur agreed, burying his face in Kir’s shoulder and shuddering, “That was – that was _awful_.”

“Is it dead?” Galen asked from the doorway, sticking his head through and watching them worriedly, “And are you two all right? We’re all okay out here.”

“It’s dead,” Kir confirmed, everything feeling somehow _brighter_ the moment it was pierced through… well, whatever counted as a heart for that thing. “And we’re fine. Don’t let them sleep. They need to stay awake until dawn, their spirits are still… unsettled, not firmly anchored. Dawn will fix it entirely.”

“Damn, I was about to request a nap,” Anur grumbled, still shaking slightly but stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide the more obvious tremors.

This, at least, Kir could do something about.

Arm around his friend, he guided him past the small group on the steps, nodding shortly to the still alert Galen who let them pass without comment. From the sounds of it, they were calming everyone down and then would move them to the inn, where Birni had kept a hearth-fire burning.

Similar direction, different destination.

They got to the stables and the witch-horse’s still white head was sticking out over the stall door, straining towards Anur who let out a strangled sob before nearly collapsing against the wall, forehead resting against the witch-horse’s cheek. Kir grabbed blankets from a side-room and wrapped them around the now shivering Herald, pulling him down so they were sitting next to each other against Aelius’ stall door, the witch-horse able to reach down and rest his muzzle against Anur’s face.

“That – that was awful, I’ll say it again,” Anur shuddered, Kir wrapping an arm around his shoulders and carefully sending heat into the blankets – he was still cold to the touch. “Havens – no wonder you hate blood mages so much, fuck – they set _those_ sorts of things loose?”

“The _lothga_ are some of the worst,” Kir replied tiredly, “And I’ll repeat it too – you are _never_ doing something like that again. You were vulnerable before, what do you think this has done? Damn it Anur, this – no. Not again.”

“…Aelius agrees, says he can anchor me so I’m not that vulnerable, not even as bad as I was before – we had to weaken it, the bond, to get it to work,” Anur shook violently for a moment, “I couldn’t _hear_ him.”

“All right, all right, easy – it’s over,” Kir murmured, Anur collapsing against his side and shaking, tears slowly dripping down his face (Kir’s own eyes were shining but he had _practice_ at this, by the One God!), “Over, and _never_ happening again if I have any say in it. I _hate_ being helpless like that. Felt utterly useless.”

They sat in silence for a while, Kir not worried about checking his being awake – the witch-horse would take care of that – when he heard people approaching the stables. He nudged Anur and Aelius raised his head slightly, but quickly lowered it back to Anur’s hair when they recognized the twins.

“Sirs,” Balin nodded, sitting down across from them, Galen going past to grab some blankets for himself and his brother before joining them. “How are you doing, Lieutenant-Enforcer?”

“That’s a bloody inconveniently long title,” Anur mumbled, looking over at him, “Been better, been worse, bout all I can say right about now. Sucks a lot. Cold.”

“Yeah, the others were mentioning that, have them all bundled up in front of the fire, hot tea on the brew. Brought some heated sausage rolls out, figured you two might be hungry, not like any of us ate much before this whole thing,” Galen nodded, Balin pulling the top off a basket with a flourish, passing one warmed roll to everyone, a cask of what Kir was willing to bet was quite a bit stronger than tea sitting in the middle.

They all devoured two each. Galen had been right, none of them had really eaten anything before the entire evening started, too tense or worried to bother.

“So, we figured this was a good time to tell you all about the things you never thought you’d need to know about Karse,” Balin said cheerfully, pulling the cork out of the bottle and wrinkling his nose at the sharp smell of _prodka_ that emerged. “First things first, _prodka_. Drink of a true man, according to most, even though not too many people actually drink it outside of occasional special events. It’s not the best of tastes.”

“Speak for yourself,” Kir scoffed, “ _Prodka_ is excellent, particularly once you find a good distiller.”

“You drink this stuff straight regularly?” Galen asked skeptically, Anur chuckling and confirming it, “He does, carries a flask of it all the time.”

“…That, is ridiculous. And overkill, a firestarter carrying his predecessor?” Balin snorted, “Well at least you won’t lack for fuel!”

They all shared that laugh, each knowing the origin story he referenced. “I’m surprised,” Kir said thoughtfully, “That you know that story. And the rhyme – your grandmother again?”

Both twins nodded, Galen speaking, “Aye, she told us the old stories all the time, sir. Stories and rhymes – scared us half to death, don’t mind me saying.”

“No, a lot of the old stories are rather disturbing,” Kir agreed.

“So what’s this rhyme then?” Anur asked, shifting slightly so he was more upright, Kir removing his arm from around his shoulders so they could simply sit side by side. He kept warming the blankets though.

All three Karsites exchanged glances, then spoke as one,

            “Death comes dancing, comes screaming,

            Tis the corlga, they are teeming.

            Eyes are open, nobody’s home

            This is where the lothga roam.

            Songs are silenced, voices dead,

            There the bishra raise their head.

            Faces aged, bodies shriveled

            Here is where the vankra traveled.

            Two to follow, two to lead

            Witach’s brood follows his creed.”

Anur was pale, and shuddered, “You teach that to _kids_? Hells, _I’m_ going to have nightmares!”

Kir smiled wryly, “There is a reason I was surprised they knew it. It’s not something people teach anymore, not with it being centuries since a blood-mage set foot on our soil.”

“Ugh. Okay, something happier, please. Anything, seriously.”

“Drinking songs and dice games it is!”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Synia looked up when Father Hanlik stepped into the inn, the middle-aged man smiling at the sight of her. “It is very, very good to see you well, Synia,” he said quietly, “Now, we’re about to start the Sun Rising service, I think it would be good for you three in particular to come.”

“Of course,” she nodded, nudging a dozing Mal and he jerked awake, looking around frantically before he caught sight of her and relaxed. She smiled sadly, it must have been hard on him – she didn’t actually remember much of the nightmares she’d been plagued with, only vague terrors lurking. Rodri, the boy who’d fallen first, remembered the most, he was staring into the flames with fierce concentration, close enough she was honestly worried he was going to light himself on fire. Lira didn’t remember anything, apparently, just falling asleep and feeling cold.

“Come on you two,” Niva said from her seat at a table, standing with Lira on her hip as her husband helped Rodri to his feet, “Let’s go greet the dawn.”

“And the other one?” Synia asked, brow furrowed as she tried to remember those first few confusing minutes, “The… Sunsguard?”

“Enforcer,” Hanlik corrected, and she paled. An Enforcer meant one thing only, and that was a Firestarter close behind.

“It’s Father Kir, Synia, the chaplain from the 62nd. The twins brought him when I sent that letter,” Mal murmured and she felt some of the tension ease. Mal hadn’t told her everything about his time in the Sunsguard, but a friendly and helpful chaplain had figured in a few of the stories.

“You never mentioned he was a Firestarter!” she hissed at him as they walked out the door after the reunited family of four.

He just shrugged uncomfortably and gave a tiny smile – she hated that expression, it was adorable and let him get away with far too much. But even as she thought that, she sighed and leaned into his one-armed hug, “Fine, fine,” she allowed, “I forgive you.”

“My heart swells with joy,” he dead-panned, Synia laughing and smacking him on the chest for it.

They were joined by the rest of the village – everyone was coming to this service, she noted, exchanging smiles and greetings with the others, the children swarming their two recovered playmates as their parents beamed. Mal and she continued to follow right behind Father Hanlik as he entered the temple, catching the tail end of what must have been a very bizarre conversation.

“—danced to death? How does that even _work_?”

“Grandmother always said their hearts beat so fast, they ended up exploding,” a Sunsguard shrugged – a twin, judging by the identical man standing next to him. These must be the Sescha brothers Mal mentioned so fondly.

“Enough, we can discuss it later,” the Firestarter said, black-trimmed red robes unmistakable. All four rose to their feet, having been sitting on the back pews. Sharp grey eyes examined her carefully and Synia could feel her spine involuntarily straightening, Mal squeezing her shoulders reassuringly.

“Apologies,” the man murmured, stepping back and around the Enforcer without a glance, ensuring she wasn’t actually within sight of him. She blinked for a moment, unsure what he was apologizing for, before realizing her hand had unconsciously moved to cover her abdomen – already responding to the news Malak had relayed.

Mal exchanged a nod with the Enforcer before keeping her moving up to the front, Synia unable to keep herself from looking over her shoulder at the row of four. He had actually – that was an old folk tradition she’d never really thought much of, but for him to go out of his way to follow it? That wasn’t – well. It sounded like the chaplain Mal had told her about, but it didn’t sound like a Firestarter at all.

She’d have to think on this.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“So what was that about?” Anur asked lowly, eyeing Kir worriedly as the rest of the village crammed into the temple for the dawn service.

“Old tradition,” Kir murmured, eyes tight, “Firestarters can sense witch-powers in the unborn, and if that happens they burn them both. Or they induce witch-powers so the child is condemned at birth, or their presence causes mother’s anxiety and damages their birth – I don’t know. A variety of consequences, but basically to avoid problems I need to avoid her. And any other pregnant woman. And weddings. Firestarters at weddings are even worse omens.”

Anur thought about that, and about what priests normally did, and didn’t like where this was heading. “So you can’t do the normal priest things then – preside over services in a village, there might be pregnant women around. Can’t preside over weddings, that’s a curse or something dumb. That doesn’t make any sense, Kir.”

“It’s tradition,” Kir snorted bitterly, “Doesn’t have to make sense. And it’s not like _I’m_ expected to follow it, people who believe in it arrange for things to fall out appropriately. But she was just attacked by a _lothga_ and probably didn’t even know she was bearing before this whole thing happened, so I thought I’d take care of it myself.”

Anur could read between those lines, and knew very well that even if she hadn’t been attacked, he would have avoided her. Avoided her and those around her, so he could avoid the fearful looks and poorly hidden flinches. That explained why Kir seemed so familiar with those traveler’s chapels – at least there he didn’t have to deal with entire villages of people shying away from him.

This country was seriously messed up.

Any further discussion was delayed, as the service finally started, pre-dawn light quickly spilling over into true dawn and _Vkandis_ it felt good to stand in the sunlight again. Exhaustion faded away, energy boosted and memories of the fierce struggle inside his head inside his _soul_ dimmed, pushed back in the warm light of day. Here’s hoping they stayed away and didn’t plague his nightmares for decades to come, but he wasn’t going to hold onto that idea too much – especially not with that utterly creepy rhyme to pick through as well. Dancing to death, seriously.

And of course, they weren’t done yet. Hanlik and Birni had given instructions to various villagers to construct stands and wind-chimes according to the peculiar steps that were considered necessary for a purification. Seven chimes of staggered lengths, carved in daylight while the individual in question recited prayers – any sort of prayer, according to Kir, so long as they meant it.

Work on those would continue today, while Kir and he went to deal with these unquiet dead. Apparently that was best done at noon, but so was the purification ritual, so they were hoping to get the spirits dealt with and then do the purification at noon. Otherwise they’d be here for an additional day and it didn’t take a genius to realize that Kir didn’t want to spend any longer here than he had to.

Anur was grateful for practice with the Temple of the Lord of Light – he was able to follow along with the service and participate without tripping over himself. Between Father Gerichen and his own work in Karse a few years ago he had enough experience with these services to get by – Kir had also given him an intensive course in the more obscure traditions of temples that he would encounter now that he was an Enforcer, a position that could be argued to be a type of acolyte.

Quite possibly even more entertaining than the official employee of the Sunsguard angle, but not one he planned to bring up any time soon.

He took a deep breath on exiting the temple at the end of the service, looking up to the clear blue sky – sign of a blazingly hot day, he was sure – before turning to a calmly waiting Kir and asking, “So. Where to next?”

“Riverbanks, we have a consolation rite to conduct,” Kir replied, looking over at the waiting twins and continuing, “You two are welcome to come along, but not necessary.”

“You two will be distracted with haunts,” Balin refuted, “So we’ll be there to deal with less spiritual messes that might come up.”

Anur was glad of that – more because of the gesture than the actual likelihood of them needing it, but glad nonetheless. Kir accepted the declaration with a nod, any verbal reply interrupted by the arrival of Father Hanlik, who handed over a small silk pouch mutely.

Kir accepted, bowing over it and murmuring thanks, the other priest returning the bow, saying, “I will bring the representatives with the necessary supplies to the junction at noon.”

“Is that timeline doable or will we need to conduct the ceremony at Sun Rising tomorrow?” Kir asked, Hanlik shaking his head and replying, “They worked through the night on the things they could, those that require daylight are nearly complete – every hand has turned to the work.”

“Good,” Kir smiled, “That will make things easier. Thank you, Father Hanlik.”

The older priest simply nodded and left, probably going to ensure preparations really were going smoothly. Kir looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, Anur just smiling grimly, “Horses?” he asked.

“Horses,” his friend agreed.

It took no time at all for them to be riding out of town, Balin and Galen murmuring in surprise at the very obvious dead-patches, already smaller than they had been the day before. That _lothga_ had made a difference then. Anur ignored them beyond noting that pattern, instead trying to figure out just what this consolation ceremony was going to entail – Kir had said it wouldn’t require any participation on his part, but Anur was too used to how things went around Heralds to think that he wouldn’t get dragged into it somehow, especially not with what he’d done last night.

 _:Relax Chosen – nothing tried to latch on to either of you yesterday. I’m not certain if that was due to my presence, Kir’s, or both, but I do not think we will be facing any truly murderous spirits today,:_ Aelius replied, before continuing with resigned bemusement, _:Not that I have much experience with spirits – not exactly something we really deal with much back in Valdemar. A learning experience for us both then.:_

 _:Oh fantastic, just what I wanted to hear,:_ Anur groaned, _:You could have at least pretended to know what you were doing!:_

 _:I know what I’m doing!:_ Aelius snorted indignantly, tossing his head, _:I’m just… not exactly an expert. Like Griffon to Kir – I can get the job done but it’s not exactly subtle. Or entirely controlled.:_

 _:Well let’s avoid that sort of collateral damage, and we should be all right,:_ Anur sighed, eyeing the quickly approaching junction of the two watercourses – one from Hardorn, banks dead and shriveled, the other one of the Sons Springs, banks flourishing. It made for a stark contrast, and definitely put paid to any sort of purely physical poisoning being blamed – the lines were too sharp for that.

Kir raised a hand and they all reined in to a halt next to him. Looking over at the twins, he said, “It would be best if you waited upstream the Son’s Spring branch, should be safer there. Kindly take Riva with you. The three of us will stand here for the rites.”

“Of course Sun’s Ray,” Balin replied, Anur raising an eyebrow at the new title. How many ways were there to address Kir? Hells, how many ways were there to address a regular parish priest, Kir certainly had at least that many optional titles, if not more. Did they all mean something different, at least in connotation? They had too, how else would you pick which one to say?

 _:Chosen, focus,:_ Aelius interrupted, clearly amused, and Anur hastily dismounted, Kir raising an eyebrow as the twins headed off, Riva following reluctantly. “Distracted,” Anur explained to the mute question, “I’ll ask you later, nothing important at the moment.”

“Right,” Kir replied dryly, shrugging it off before continuing seriously, “It would be best if you linked with the – with Aelius. He can likely allow you to see both… aspects. This is consecrated sage and sandalwood,” he held up the silken bag Hanlik had handed him, “They are a standard purification incense blend – it will also call them forward to be recognized. That’s the bit where we’ll find out just how hostile they actually are.”

“Will more of those _lothga_ show up?” Anur replied, hastily continuing at the slightly insulted look, “If they’re already here – I know you’re not calling _them_ , but wouldn’t they be… attracted to it? Like spirits would?”

“No – they’re different categories of being entirely,” Kir replied, apparently understanding his confusion, “We’ll have to go over these sorts of rites in more detail later, I hadn’t anticipated them being necessary so early into your instatement as an Enforcer.”

“Lucky me then,” Anur replied dryly.

Kir just snorted, “Indeed.”

Turning towards the streams’ meetings, he reached into the bag and drew out a handful of dried herbs, the aroma immediately hitting and only increasing in potency when he threw them into the air, smoke wafting from them as they slowly burned. Anur inhaled deeply through his nose, tangling his fingers in Aelius’ mane before diving into their connection, eyes mostly shutting. Kir’s voice wove around them, chanting a peculiar prayer – it was old Karsite, very old – to the point he could only catch the gist of it, calling forth spirits to answer for their actions, to present their case before judgment. The lack of understanding helped though – he spent less time focusing on what Kir was saying and more on what was going on as a whole, making it work more as a mantra than anything else. He could use the assistance, he hadn’t done meditation in a while – it had been recommended for hiding Gifts within Karse – but between Kir’s chanting and the incense it didn’t take long for the increased mental awareness to hit.

And hit it did, with a bit more of a punch than he expected. Inhaling sharply, his eyes flew open as he watched shadow figures form in the smoke – the entire day seemed dulled, distant. Green banks were shaded but somehow glowing? The dying banks of the Hardornen branch were absolutely disgusting in this weird lighting – a sickly yellow, with black-stained red woven in the soil, throbbing like some rotting pustule.

Kir’s chanting had wound down and he looked over at his friend, unable to prevent a gasp at the sight. No _way_ was this just lighting!

“Mage-sight, Chosen. Slightly… _off_ mage-sight, but that’s what it is,” a familiar voice said aloud, and he looked at Aelius and immediately felt a headache coming on. His fingers were tangled in Aelius’ mane, he could still feel that, but the glowing white horse wasn’t all that he saw – embedded or overlain was an image of a middle-aged man in an old Heraldic uniform and an aquiline face. His hand was resting on that man’s shoulder’s, according to his eyes, while at the same time resting on his Companion’s withers tangled in soft white hair but they were both _there_ were both the –

“Chosen,” the horse-man-Companion said gently, “Look away.”

Anur was only too glad to obey that one, wrenching his eyes away and returning his focus to the figures that had finally finished forming in front of them. It was… horrifying. Rank upon rank of farmers flickering between pitchforks and shepherd’s crooks and poorly fitted armor with badly balanced swords – tattered banners burnt and shredded but still flying and that pulsing _rot_ was _inside_ all of them.

“I kind of feel like throwing up,” Anur said aloud.

“Don’t,” Kir said shortly, “Right now we’re half a step removed from the physical plane, having a purely physical reaction like that will disrupt it and you’ll be yanked out, not a good idea. But the blood-magic is… nauseating.”

“Aye, it’s pretty bad,” one of the Hardornen men in the front ranks agreed, a long-suffering look on his face, “Thought we’d be free of it, when we were dead. But we’re stuck here, stuck good and hard.”

“Following the water to try and get away,” Kir continued, tilting his head to the side, “At least at first.”

“They needed mages with us to keep us under, right? Seemed worth a shot, that distance would free us,” the spokesman (spokes-spirit maybe?) shrugged, the movement jarring as he went from armor to homespun, pike going to axe. The distant-eyed look, very strange with pupil-less eyes – a feature all the ghosts shared now that Anur was looking for it – faded, an intense focus coming over the spirit as he spoke directly to Kir, “We found those things following us. Eating us – then it went for people, real people. We tried to stop it, when it latched on – but they weren’t – we didn’t know what we were doing. We _tried_ but we killed them. And I apologize. But we wanted to stop that… that _thing_ from getting people. It was getting stronger from us, and we’re dead, scattered and barely hanging on. What could it get from the living?”

Kir sighed, nodding, “I thought it was something like that,” he said softly. “The _lothga_ is dead. Were there more than one?”

Anur shuddered at the idea of running into _more_ of those things – hells, at the idea of running into one of those things here! It had been horrifying enough to look at awake and not with this bizarre double-vision, here it was probably a true nightmare-wretch.

“Anur, stop thinking about it,” Kir said sharply, gaze entirely on the flickering spirits. Anur hastily wrenched his thoughts away from that track, flinching as he spotted the suddenly _fewer_ spirits that stood before them.

“Not taken, not by that thing,” the spokes-ghost said, “Just… hiding. In case. No, there weren’t any others. Just us, being carried along. We set up watches further down the river, in case it came down. We could at least delay it, maybe try again to go after it. We’re… we’re dead. We can’t help anyone at home that way. We might as well help here, stop Ancar’s evil from spreading.”

“A brave thing,” Kir said softly, Anur agreeing wholeheartedly.

“What else was there for us to do?” the spirit said dully, also starting to flicker. “We’re condemned here, stuck. All that’s left is for us to… forget.”

“No!” Kir refuted, sharp tone punctuated by a flare of flame – not red, not the usual yellow-tinged orange, but a true _gold_ , like sunshine – and the spirit froze, staring at that glow hungrily.

“No,” Kir continued more gently, the golden flame warping to form an orb between his palms, “Not all. You can go on, to what awaits you.”

“We did awful things,” the ghost murmured, the objection weakened by his longing expression, “Horrible, horrible things.”

“Blood-magic leaves no room for free-will,” Kir corrected, “What is done under that banner is not yours to bear. Beyond that – the Sunlord is merciful, is not your deity the same? Move on, steal back what was yours at last. Don’t let Ancar dictate your afterlife as well as your death.”

That last sentence definitely made a difference, the ranks of spirits suddenly swelling, no flickers evident as the idea of Ancar being able to dictate _anything_ to them in death was refuted, and refuted whole-heartedly. “Go!” Kir said, strident tones having a bizarre echo to them here, golden orb flaring and fluxing in his hands before leaping out to blaze in front of them, spinning into the by now familiar Sun-in-Glory emblem, “Be at peace.”

First one, then a second, then tens, hundreds – swarmed into that light, vanishing even as it blazed brighter with every spirit that passed through it. Finally, only the spokes-ghost remained, wrenching his gaze from the light to stare at the two of them gratefully, “Thank you, Herald. Thank you, Sunpriest.”

“Go,” Anur echoed Kir’s earlier command, smiling, “Be at peace.”

One more smile, then the man vanished, Sun-in-Glory flaring to white, near blinding, before fading to nothing. Anur blinked spots out of his eyes – no longer in that bizarre ‘half-step removed’ place it seemed – and looked in shock at the riverbanks in front of him. Formerly wilting and browned, pulsing and red-black in the other mage-sight place, they were now lush and green to rival the Son’s Springs branch. Even the stretch without any dilution – he wouldn’t be surprised if every inch of Karsite riverbank along that stream was more vibrant and green than it had been in years.

“Sunlord be praised,” he heard from behind him. Looking over his shoulder he saw Balin and Galen dropped to their knees, awe clear on their faces.

Glancing over at Kir, he was unsurprised to see his friend staring up towards the sun, a smile on his face. Finally releasing Aelius’ mane, he took the one step necessary and wrapped an arm around his friend’s shoulders, giving him a quick one-armed hug as he followed his gaze. He let the reflective and worshipful silence go for a moment, he had to – needed to say his own thankful prayers after all – but then he had to bring it up.

“So – you use that kind of incense at all your ceremonies? Have to say, the colors were pretty weird,” he teased, Kir snorting and elbowing him in the ribs.

“Shut up Herald,” he tossed back with a smile, “We don’t _drug_ our people. Just terrify them.”

“Ah, yes. A fine distinction,” Anur mocked, Aelius whickering a laugh behind him.

“I couldn’t expect a heathen to understand,” Kir sniffed, turning back to the riverbanks with a grateful expression, “Vkandis most merciful, _thank you_ ,” he murmured, sketching the Holy Disk in the air in front of him.

Anur looked over at Aelius, then back to the river and smiled. For a trip that had started out with some pretty terrifying moments, it had turned out a lot brighter than expected.

And he had plenty to write to his mother about!

***===***pagebreak***===***

Synia listened to the clacking of the wooden wind-chimes hanging along the inn’s porch, watching the stables and waiting. Yesterday most of the town had headed up the river for the purification ceremony, only to find that it was hardly needed. Sickened riverbanks were flourishing, poisoned wells clear and crisp again – they hardly needed a priest to tell him they’d received a miracle.

The seven wind-chimes and oil-lamps had been posted along the river as planned, bundles of sage burning above them. More wind-chimes and lamps had been made, all the lamps sent to the temple while the wind-chimes went up all over the village – it was all she and Mal could do to keep them from hanging over every square inch of their ceiling! No, one per household was plenty, with the extras circling the inn and the wells. They were bound and determined to not face something like this ever again.

Rodri came up and stood quietly beside her, Synia looking down at the boy worriedly before returning her gaze to the stables. She needed to have words with the Firestarter, and he kept _avoiding_ her. Courteous, for him to pay heed to that ridiculous old wives’ tale, but frustrating.

So she was standing here on the porch of the inn, having come with Mal after the Sun Rising service so he could say goodbye to his Sunsguard friends. Mal and the twins had gone off to exchange farewells while the Enforcer and Firestarter were apparently getting the horses ready for their departure. Hence her observation of the stables.

Finally, her two targets came out, leading four horses by the reins. The Enforcer’s paint was a truly beautiful creature, pure white with black and such intelligent eyes! The other three were no pitiful beasts, but they paled in comparison.

Dragging her eyes from the horses, she gathered her bundle and marched forward, Rodri tucking in behind her, unnervingly silent for a boy who, five days ago, would never stop talking.

“Your Holiness!” she called, the Firestarter turning and taking a step back when he caught sight of her, averting his eyes to Rodri and frowning slightly.

“Your Holiness,” she said again, the Enforcer deceptively relaxed against his horse while he watched her, most certainly ready to jump between her and his Firestarter. “I wanted to thank you – and there is no need for that. If I ever did, I certainly can’t believe that old wives’ tale now! Vkandis Sunlord smiles upon you, Holiness, and any child of mine should be _honored_ to have been in your presence,” she said fiercely, the Sunpriest finally truly _looking_ at her, grey eyes meeting her own, clearly startled, before that expression faded into a smile.

“You honor me,” he said calmly, Synia almost able to _see_ the weight lift from his shoulders and she felt proud that she could say she had lifted that burden from him. It wasn’t right, that he should be tarred with the same brush as the more vicious of his brethren – if they even were. She had never met another Firestarter, never heard of them outside of legends and tales whispered in corners – what if they were all like this Father Kir?

Not something to count on, no, but something to consider.

“This is for you,” she said, handing over her carefully tied bundle with a bow. It was a roll of fabric, carefully labeled pockets holding medicinal and holy herbs both and she knew he recognized it by the sharp inhale.

“And this is for you,” she continued, handing a wax-paper wrapped package to the Enforcer, who smelled it and beamed, “Spice-cake!” he cheered, Synia laughing at his expression and happy to find that the twins’ report of his fondness for the dessert was accurate.

The priest looked up from his examination of the list of herbs and plants pinned to the top of his bundle and he smiled, “I thank you. These will be very useful – though hopefully some will never be called on.”

“One can hope, but the Sunlord helps he who prepares for none at all,” she quoted and both of the men exchanged rueful glances at that. A story of their own, perhaps. She wouldn’t be surprised.

“Synia!” Mal called, walking out with the twins, “Did you – oh! You did find them!”

“Yes, Mal,” she replied cheerfully, “I am, in fact, capable of finding the stables on my own.”

“It’s a long ways,” one of the twins agreed in mock solemnity, “Very dangerous. You might be beset by mousers!”

“Tripped by scheming water-troughs!” his brother agreed, “Very risky. You are a brave woman, Synia Greves.”

“You two really are as ridiculous as he described,” she laughed, happy she had been able to meet three of the people that had figured so prominently in her husband’s memories of the Sunsguard, good and bad. It helped, knowing he’d had these three to look after him, the two ridiculous twins in particular.

“Spreading malicious lies about our character, Mal? How could you,” one pouted, the other miming as if he were struck.

Further antics were interrupted by the Enforcer’s dry, “Unfortunately, we do actually have to get back, so any further entertainment must be postponed.”

The two immediately straightened and said farewells to Mal, bowing over her hand in over-the-top gestures of gallantry before taking their own horses. Mal meanwhile stepped forward to stand next to her, saying, “Thank you for coming, Father Kir, Enforcer Bellamy – I can’t thank either of you enough for what you did.”

“You are very welcome, both of you,” the priest replied, looking between both of them, “Sunlord watch over you and yours, Malak and Synia Greves.”

She and her husband bowed, accepting the blessing with silent thanks. Synia straightened and was startled to find the Sunpriest stepping past her, reaching out to a still silent Rodri, hand resting on the boy’s head, “Sunlord watch over, protect, and guide you, Rodri,” the priest said quietly, “I am sorry, that we were unable to get here sooner and spare you this.”

Rodri looked up, and finally, _finally_ smiled, the first since he woke, “It is enough that you came, Father. Thank you.”

“Be careful, child,” the Sunpriest said finally, stepping back and quickly mounting, herbalist pack tied to his saddlebags by the Enforcer while they’d talked. “Spread the word, if you could, Malak, to keep an eye out for these things.”

“Of course Father. Safe journeys, all of you. And Sunlord protect you.”

The four all made some gesture of acceptance, finally riding out. The formal farewells to the headman and local priest had been made this morning, so there was nothing keeping them any longer. Synia was simply grateful she’d been able to personally convey her thanks before they’d disappeared.

She headed off with her husband, ready to face the rest of the day and the rest of her life secure in the knowledge that Vkandis Sunlord was watching over them and that there were Firestarters still truly serving as protectors.

She missed entirely the small flame dancing between Rodri’s palms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was… rough. And a piece I’ve been fighting with for weeks (months if you consider when I first came up with the idea...) Hope it worked. Based very much on Kethry’s discussion of planar creatures with Tarma in the Oaths books and some of Karal’s discussion of Karsite beliefs on ghosts in Storm Breaking. Oh and the whole exorcism scene with Robin Goodfellow in Lackey’s Wizard of London. Writing stories about spectral monster things is hard – for some awesome ones, check out an ATLA fic called Embers, and an SG1-ATLA crossover called The Dragon King’s Temple – good fics, very good malicious spirit scenes.
> 
> Lothga – based on shtriga (both original and Supernatural versions) and dementors. The other monsters mentioned in the rhyme may or may not make an appearance, we'll see.


	5. Her Radiance's List

“We did this in the Tedrel Wars, we’ve done this against Ancar, why is this not working?!” Anur grumbled, glaring at the arrow he’d strung. He was a good marksman, more than adequate even on horseback – though that was with him on Aelius, who knew how he’d do on a regular horse – but apparently the experiment he’d been working on wasn’t going as well as he’d hoped.

“What are you even trying to do?” Kir asked, barely glancing up from his work fletching arrows. The two of them were among the skeleton crew left behind in the barracks for this week’s patrols, leaving them to conduct maintenance and personal training regimes for a few days until the groups returned to exchange intelligence so the next sweeps could be hashed out.

“Fetching arrows – we fire them, and then use the Fetching Gift to guide them to their targets. Let us take out some of Ancar’s mages in the earlier fights, still works sometimes,” Anur shrugged, before frowning at his arrow again, “But it’s always been in conjunction with FarSeers, and those two in combination don’t usually end in my sort of Fetching, more like the letter I sent you than that sword a few weeks ago.”

“Hmm,” Kir frowned, “So now you are trying to – what, guide the arrows midair, without someone else showing the target?”

“Exactly,” Anur shrugged, “Thought if I could do this, I could smack arrows out of the air if they were fired towards me, or maneuver fire-arrows closer to an appropriate target to get fuel into a group for you to work with. But Aelius doesn’t have much experience with it, and we never linked for that sort of thing, my Fetching Gift just isn’t strong enough for it, miraculous letter aside.”

“And practicing like this made it less likely you would get yourself shot with arrows,” Kir said dryly, “Good plan, Herald.”

“Thank you, I thought so as well,” Anur replied sardonically, before continuing, “I’ve gotten the knives down – need some more aiming practice but I hit the bulls-eye regularly. But arrows take a lot to get up to speed so I thought I’d try firing them and then manipulating it midair instead.”

“Show me,” Kir requested, setting aside his fletching and resting his chin on laced together fingers. Anur shrugged and let loose his arrow, the arrow quivering in amongst a cluster of others to the left of the bulls-eye. Unstringing his bow, he then drew throwing knives from wrist-sheaths and his boots, laying the four blades down on the ground in front of him.

Visibly steadying himself, Anur’s eyes half-shut and there was a very _still_ moment before the knives twitched, then hurled themselves through the air before slamming into the bulls-eye with solid thuds, burying themselves almost to the hilt. Kir raised an eyebrow and said mildly, “Impressive.”

“Right?” Anur grinned at him, “All thanks to your ideas and that sword the twins tossed me. From a stand-still, even from lower speeds, I’m fine, but once you get to faster moving objects I can’t do much.”

“I’d work on what you can and build to it,” Kir suggested, “Get arrows firing like that and then trying moving them mid-flight when you launched them with your Gift. After that try mid-flight movement with a standard launch. It might just be that your focus on drawing and aiming manually is distracting you from applying your Gift in time.”

“Huh,” Anur frowned, “That would make some sense. So then I’d want to try moving arrows someone _else_ fired to see if that’s the case… good idea. But this is definitely the end for today, I can tell when I’ve hit my limits and any more will leave me with one hell of a headache.”

“Then go fetch your knives and arrows and you can help me get through the rest of these,” Kir suggested, waving at the pile of featherless arrows he had behind him. It was a hefty supply, he doubted even the two of them would get through more than half of it with no interruptions.

One of which had apparently just arrived, he thought ruefully, Lieutenant Korisho walking up when Anur had just started on his first arrow, letter in hand. “Father Kir, Lieutenant Enforcer,” the officer greeted them, “I have a letter for you sir – bit thicker than the last one.”

That was an understatement, Kir realized, accepting the rather thick envelope with a raised eyebrow. He recognized Solaris’ handwriting, hard not to with how often they’d exchanged letters, but was surprised she’d sent such a thick document. Thin letters were easy to encode or at least obliquely reference mutual knowledge – the longer the letter, the more likely anyone intercepting it would realize something odd was going on in the background. She was, after all, technically below him in the hierarchy of the priesthood if one considered his status as Firestarter before his duty as a chaplain.

“Oh gods – please tell me I’m not supposed to write _that_ much,” Anur begged, before slapping himself on the forehead, “I need to stop doing that.”

“I’ll set your hair on fire every time you do,” Kir replied absently, melting the wax seal and pulling out a ream of papers – very thin papers, wrapped in a more standard piece. This was certainly unusual.

“Thank you Lieutenant,” Kir said, looking over at Korisho, “Did this come with the standard carrier?”

“No sir,” Devek replied, before hesitating, “He seemed to think it contained orders from Sunhame.”

“Hmm. Interesting,” Kir murmured, examining the seal – simple wax pressed with a thumbprint, nothing like the ornate seal he’d memorized. “Illusion or conspiracy then.”

The Lieutenant hovered uncertainly, clearly unwilling to depart and Kir could hardly see the problem with indulging him, it wasn’t as if he would be reading it over his shoulder. “You can stay, Lieutenant, so long as you don’t object to fletching arrows,” he said, unfolding the bundle carefully.

Korisho gave a sheepish grin before sitting down, accepting a bundle of featherless arrows from Anur with a murmur of thanks. Kir shook his head in amusement before actually starting to read.

_Dear brother,_

_I apologize for any distress my last letter caused you. I had been working on this one when I received an urge to write to you, to affirm Our confidence in your decisions and that brief statement was all I could think of. It is a confidence which I am sure is not misplaced, particularly as we haven’t started warring with Rethwallen. Your discretion is, as usual, impeccable._

_Allow me to speak plainly – it has taken some time to arrange for this particular messenger to receive this duty. Through mutual friends, he is aware that this packet is to be handed to no hand but your own or one of your unit’s members and is under strict instructions to ensure it is so. I would prefer he hand it to you personally, but as I am unsure if you will even be present in the 62nd when he arrives, the secondary recipients had to be listed. I do hope these instructions were followed._

_If they were not, I am afraid I must leave you to deal with the situation. Messages between us have been frequent and a highlight of my correspondences, I would not see that end. But they must remain subtle and brief aside from this one, I have come under scrutiny, not unexpected, and the time is drawing near that my entire attention_ must _be devoted to Sunhame and Sunhame alone. As it is, it will be a years long campaign._

_Which leaves me a distinct problem. I have allies here, good ones, who I can trust to deal in my interests within the capital. Outside the capital, I have my village priests and chaplains, thank you for that by the way, rumors have spread thanks mostly to your unit’s visit. But outside the capital, the current regime also has many priests scattered far and wide conducting duties which We find appalling._

_Some do these duties with reluctance and doubt, others with anticipation and relish. I cannot read hearts, brother, nor minds, and my knowledge of many of these is word of mouth alone._

_Enclosed is a list, not a list for elimination – that would be precipitous. A list for investigation. Each of these priests and priestesses are relative unknowns, some have my observations and rumors I’ve heard recorded with them, as I am probably in more regular contact with the priesthood’s gossip than you, but none of these are to be taken as truth unless you or those you trust verify them._

_I have left the village priests be, this list targets the higher ranked Red and Black robes who may have the power to depose me or at least threaten my claim when the time comes._

_It has taken some time to compose this list, years in my own mind, months of research here. And now I must pass off the entire thing to you. I am informed that you, while holding few in correspondence and close contact, do in fact have contacts outside the priesthood that may watch your robes with wariness, but recognize your name with a measure of trust. I ask that you use these, use your status, your allies – whatever means are at your disposal, brother, use them. Investigate these men and women, determine what side, if any, they should fall on._

_Exercise your judgment._

_As for the foreign front, it is my hope that soon after the internal affairs are dealt with and I have a solid authority, we can reconsider our current alliances and enemies. Unfortunately, that is to be postponed until a date where I am not consumed with worry for my own people._

_The best of fortune to you and yours, brother. Vkandis Sunlord protect, watch and guide._

_Solaris_

The remainder of the papers, wafer thin, were as she described. Ream after ream of carefully scribed names, ranks and assignments tallied with rumors and sources. It was clearly organized, the most powerful to the least, both in status and ability. It was interesting to note that not a single Firestarter was on the list – they were a shuttered enough order that any political power they might exert was immediately subjugated by the fact that they were so isolated.

“Well,” he breathed, still paging through the list of names, “It seems we will be kept busy.”

Anur looked up from his arrows, tilting his head inquisitively. Kir obliged, handing over the actual letter while he placed the list of names back in the envelope for later perusal. He would have to go through them and then encrypt them himself before disposing of them, having such a list in plain Karsite would be an unacceptable risk.

Anur finished, letting out a low whistle and handing the paper back, carefully folded and placed alongside the rest before he commented, “Doesn’t ask for much, does she? That’s a lot of work to get done without a solid timeline.”

“I’m going to continue working with my three year estimate,” Kir sighed, looking at the thick packet of papers ruefully, “But even so, not much time for so many names. I won’t be able to personally deal with each and every one, but only the first page or so are truly critical – they have both sorts of power, political and otherwise. After that they will be problematic, particularly if they ally, but they can be left for later if we must.”

“Oh good, I won’t need to argue my way onto these,” Anur said cheerfully, gaze hard, “We’re going to have to step up that Enforcer-Lieutenant education program you have me on.”

“Indeed,” Kir mused, before recalling that they had company in the form of a worriedly watching Lieutenant – a Lieutenant with ambition, and a will to stay in the Sunsguard.

“That’s a terrifying smile,” Anur commented, “You had a thought.”

“Lieutenant Korisho,” Kir said, the Lieutenant straightening at his address, “How comfortable would you be in educating Anur here in proper Sunsguard protocol for his rank? I will deal with the Enforcer aspect.”

“Ah… very? Sir?”

“Excellent, I will get the assignment approved, you’ll have to accompany us on a few excursions outside the unit’s realm of influence. Will that be acceptable?” he asked, even though he knew very well that Korisho couldn’t exactly refuse, not a request he had made, but giving at least an appearance of courtesy was very important.

“Would it be jobs like the one the Sescha twins have been talking about, sir? Because I have no experience, stories included, with that sort of thing,” Devek replied, clearly wary but at the same time leaning forward – interested then. Possibly even eager.

Good. He would be pulling Anur off on investigations and they would have to leave a ranking officer in charge of whoever was brought with them. If he were to portray a Firestarter on patrol, he would have to take a Sunsguard escort with him and some of these names would not speak to anyone less.

Lieutenant Korisho was also not critical to the unit’s duties. He did a good job, was a solid officer, but was in charge of the scouts and archers alone. It was understood that soon enough he would be promoted, and by necessity, transferred out – so if he were killed or black-listed on one of these trips, the unit would not be crippled.

He hated thinking like this, absolutely loathed it. Korisho was one of _his_ , and a _good_ one, one that he could easily see himself liking as an individual as well as a subordinate, but these were all things he needed to consider now. Her Radiance was calling.


	6. Priestly Encounters

Even standing outside under the eaves listening to this night’s rain pound down on the roof and watching the road turn to a mud-wash, he could hear coughing. Kir sighed and rubbed his face tiredly, having just finished a shift drying and preparing herbs with the town’s two midwives and Senior Lieutenant Janner. While normally issues like this would be dealt with by the local priesthood, given the condition of the roads and the fact that, quite frankly, no help would be coming any closer to Hardorn and bandit country than they had to, when they’d received word that a town was badly stricken with the usual autumn sickness there hadn’t been much debate. Of course they’d try and help – not like bandits moved much in the more miserable weather anyway.

The fact that this town served as a frequent stop for a black-robe on Solaris’ list just made it all the more convenient. He was one of the feared demon-summoners, though he apparently also acted as a circuit judge when that particular business was slow. The rumors next to his name were sparse but balanced – if they were true, it was a fifty-fifty split that he support Solaris or not.

Naturally the first name he got to would be a difficult one. Some names he had recognized, after some thought, and already formed what he felt were reasonable opinions about them. He’d do his best to investigate in person or through trustworthy intermediaries, but unless they had changed _dramatically_ , he doubted he’d be forced to reevaluate.

A Sunsguard sloshed through the mud, high boots splattered with it already, thick wool coat covered by oilskin hopefully keeping him somewhat insulated. It wasn’t until he got within the light coming from the window that Kir recognized Anur, carrying more supplies from the inns and merchants he and Lieutenant Devek had been sent to hustle.

It wasn’t as if this were a verge town – this was a solid settlement, established trade routes passed through here even with the war, the fields were reasonably prosperous and the herds produced enough to sell a decent amount of surplus. The temple alone showed that, having actual gold ornamentation and some truly lovely stained glass.

The fact there was an actual ‘district’ of relatively wealthy villagers, rather than one or two homes near the headman’s, gave more strength to it. Of course, they were the least likely to get hit with this – it wasn’t as restricted as some diseases, but the ones who spent the most time out in this awful weather, only to retire to houses not entirely sound, were the ones who got hit the hardest.

And as usual with these things, they were the ones unable to pay for the medicine that helped ease the illnesses hold on them, nor could they afford the time off of work. That was one plus of this continued miserable weather – no one was working right now – not the jobs these people held. So at least no one was losing entire days of wages or profits due to illness anymore, which made it more likely they’d actually seek treatment or at least rest, rather than work themselves to exhaustion.

“Any luck?” Kir asked, leaning against the wall, Anur joining him under the eaves.

“Got a couple of innmasters to agree that charity was a virtue worth exercising, they’ll send over basic pease porridge to the sick, larger stock to come here and the temple. Once I got one to agree – through my natural charm, no threats or posturing needed this round – Devek was able to wheedle the others with competitive spirit,” Anur shrugged, “I had more luck with the merchants – heavy discounts on cough-soothers and fever-reducers. Helps that they’re not making much now anyway with the weather, so anything is better than total losses. Twins are dispersing that with Devek now to those at home. I have the majority of the medicine stash here.”

Kir noted the satchel he held up from under his oilskin and nodded, reaching out and tangling his fingers in the wool, sending a waft of heat through. Anur sighed happily, “Thanks Kir. Bought you and the minders actual rabbit pies, the other three are going to pick them up on the way back – _eat them all_ the last thing we need is you dropping. And don’t try to tell me that this warm and dry trick of yours doesn’t take energy!” he interrupted Kir’s attempt to claim just that with a wagging finger, raising an eyebrow.

Kir chuckled, pushing off from the wall and opening the door for Anur, just nodding in response to the order. He was no fool, he knew very well that if Anur wasn’t certain to enforce exactly what he’d said, he and the other minders would likely forget their food half-eaten to tend to someone.

“I come bearing gifts!” Anur called quietly, their corpsman, Senior Lieutenant Janner, looking up from where he was listening to a young woman’s cough and nodding shortly, mustache bristling as he said, “Thank you, Lieutenant-Enforcer. Take them to the table, Father Kir can show you our organization methods.”

Carefully unwrapping the package, the two of them quickly started picking through the supplies that had been sent and organized them appropriately. The current plan was to simply wait out the rain – they’d initially only come to bring their own supplies and then had been trapped by weather Janner and Anur (being, technically, the ranking officers) agreed was nasty enough to avoid going through.

Unusual for early autumn – there were storms every year, but they usually waited until closer to winter, and in the drier northern part of the country, this sort of torrential downpour was a once every three year event.

This was the second year in a row it had happened according to the locals. More consequences of imprudent magic – any magic this time, but the imprudence was signature of blood mages.

Given the utter lack of response to his reports on blood mages, near continuous for the past two years, and the equally annoying silence in response to his report on the _lothga_ , the odds of weather-workings being considered were slim to none. Kir had honestly thought the _lothga_ report would garner a response, he had reported Rodri as a likely Firestarter to be observed. He had ensured it didn’t seem urgent – they would wait for the Feast of the Children to grab him – but it was policy that the reporting priest be notified at least that their concerns would be looked at.

He couldn’t complain too much though – that utter lack of observance in Sunhame meant the papers to get his Enforcers approved went through without any trouble whatsoever. Anur and Aelius may like to think it was coconspirators, but he was far more confident in his guess: ongoing orders to either ignore or respond as benignly as possible to all his reports and requests. He wondered how long that had been going on – he hadn’t received direct orders from Sunhame since his assignment to the 62nd, and he didn’t recall receiving responses to his reports before Ancar. It wasn’t until Ancar’s war that his reports had actually warranted responses.

Given the reason he had been assigned to the 62nd in the first place, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was simply standing orders to do everything in their power to keep him confined to that assignment and unable to reasonably leave – be it for reassignment, hunting, or registering a complaint. He doubted there was an active effort to get him killed off anymore, at least not from the priesthood, but that didn’t mean his initial convenient death assignment had ever changed in its overall purpose.

They had just finished placing the last of the herb packets when Anur twitched, Kir looking over sharply in time to see his friend snarl and bolt for the door, “Alert whistle!” he called over his shoulder.

A poor excuse, Kir knew, swearing under his breath as he took off after him – the odds of him hearing a whistle over the pounding rain and coughs was slim to none. But at least it was something besides a mental call for assistance via witch-horse.

The edge of the road was still reasonably solid so they made decent speed to wherever they were racing. It wasn’t until he saw the temple come into view that he had any idea where they were heading – but their run indicated it wasn’t anything benign that brought them there. Fantastic.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur nearly crushed the last sachet of herbs when Aelius called, _:Chosen! Problem in the temple, black-robe is there went for the twins.:_

_:The hell?!:_ Anur managed, snarling audibly before turning on his heel and bolting for the door.

_:Reason Chosen!:_

“Alarm whistle!” Anur called out before he crashed out into the rain, sprinting up the more solid side of the road and feeling more than hearing Kir follow on his heels. A bit of a poor excuse, but all he needed was some form of justification for his race out the door, it didn’t need to be particularly elaborate.

_:What happened?:_

_:I have no idea, Galen came bursting in here and managed to pant that a black-robe had come in and gone after Balin. Lieutenant Korisho stayed behind to try and work things out but I doubt it’ll be resolved without more priestly interference.:_

_:Why the hells would a black-robe go for them? They were dropping off supplies – maybe dropping off food if they’d finished the residences already!:_

_:I don’t know Chosen, maybe if you focused on running you’d actually get there in time to find out!:_

_:Oh shut up Aelius, I’m going as fast as I can in this muck!:_

_:I hate pretending to be a horse, I absolutely hate this!:_

_:Now is not the time!:_ Anur growled, slamming his shoulder into the side-door to the temple’s vestibule and tumbling through. “No!” he snarled, long-knife unsheathed in moments as he lunged into place between Balin and the unknown black-robe, fury roaring in his ears. He may not be familiar with magic, but he could read the menace in the man’s posture and the clear threat in that glowing right hand.

He heard Lieutenant Korisho sigh in relief but kept his gaze locked on the furious mage, the man’s response cut off by Kir’s icy-calm demand, “What is going on here?”

Anur didn’t need to look over at Kir to know the exact expression on his friend’s face and he smirked at the suddenly pale black-robe. The man still looked angry, but no longer quite so menacing.

“These Sunsguard are taking food from the sick!” the man accused.

“Bullshit!” Anur snapped back, Kir barking, “Lieutenant-Enforcer!”

“Apologies sir,” Anur replied stiffly, still not moving his gaze from the black-robe.

“Though inappropriate, he is accurate,” Kir said, finally reaching them and standing to the side of the entire confrontation. “Lieutenant Korisho and Scouts Balin and Galen Sescha were transporting recently purchased herbs and medicines to homes of the sick, before collecting donated food from inns and distributing that. I believe they were about to take the rabbit pies my Enforcer and I bought for those tending the ill around to the midwives and Lieutenant Janner.”

“Yes sir, we had just dropped off the pies for the minders here and the porridge for the ill and their families,” Devek reported stiffly, “We were on our way to your station when His Holiness accosted us.”

All color drained from the other priest’s face and the menacing blue-white glow faded from his hands, though Anur didn’t move. “Is this accurate?” Kir snapped, now stepping to stand next to Anur, blocking the still frozen Balin from sight.

Not waiting for a response, he looked over his shoulder at Lieutenant Korisho and Balin, who was sprawled on the floor and clearly in shock.

“Lieutenant, Second Scout Galen Sescha is with our horses, kindly escort Second Scout Balin there and continue on to the midwives and Lieutenant Janner – I believe there is one more inn to collect porridge from?”

“Yes sir,” Devek saluted before helping Balin to his feet and murmuring to him as they left.

“Anur, stand down,” Kir said, Anur finally shifting into a less confrontational stance and sheathing his knife. He was no longer quite so furious – but it wouldn’t take much for it to rise up again and he didn’t doubt Kir felt much the same. What the hells gave this man the right to assume such a ridiculous thing? To not even ask, to just assume that if three Sunsguard were carrying food away from a temple, they were thieves?

Apparently Kir’s thoughts were running on a similar line, as he said flatly, “Explain yourself.”

“I didn’t – I – “ the man paused, took a deep breath, and offered a polite half-bow, “Fredric Loshern, Black Robe of the Second Order, Circuit-Judge and Summoner.”

“Kir Dinesh, Firestarter of the First Order, Chaplain of the 62nd Cavalry, now explain why you attacked my men,” Kir replied, tone remaining implacable.

“My experience with the Sunsguard has been negative,” Loshern said, licking his lips nervously, “In my experience, no Sunsguard could be trusted within a temple without supervision, nor to leave unarmed villagers unmolested and with all their possessions. I am afraid I responded to their uniforms, rather than their characters.”

_:Now doesn’t that sound familiar?:_ Aelius asked dryly, _:I wonder how often he has been burned by people judging his uniform.:_

_:Not enough, clearly,:_ Anur growled back, _:Otherwise he’d know better.:_

“So your response is to assault them, threaten them with magic, and not allow anyone to get a word in edgewise?” Kir asked, distinctly unimpressed, “And you are a circuit judge? Marvelous to see how our justice system has progressed.”

_:Nice one!:_ Aelius cackled, Anur’s mood also brightening at the jibe.

Loshern clearly got the message, flushing and bowing his head slightly, “My apologies, Firestarter.”

“It is not me who you owe an apology too,” Kir said shortly, arms crossing, “But I would not have you get within sight of those men without my being present. How long are you remaining here?”

“I intend to help with the sick until the worst has passed, so some days I assume,” the man replied, “I will be staying in the temple.”

“Then I will see you at the Sun Rising service tomorrow,” Kir said shortly, “And you may deliver your apology to the appropriate parties then.”

“Ah – Holiness?” the man asked as they had turned to leave, Anur gritting his teeth and turning around with Kir to face him again. He looked nervous, as he damn well should, but determined, “My… mission was to investigate reports of unusual behavior in a Sunsguard unit west of here. Would it be possible to meet before your departure to exchange news?”

Kir inclined his head, “Tomorrow, after the service.”

“Very well, I will see you at the dawn. Vkandis bless and guide,” he bowed, hand sketching the Holy Disk.

Kir returned the gesture mutely before finally leading the way back out into the rain, drops steaming as they hit his coat. He was definitely more angry than he let on then. And probably losing even more energy doing that in a rage than he had been helping with the sick.

“Come on, Kir, let’s get to those rabbit pies and we can get back to work,” Anur sighed, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “And maybe think about creative ways to scold and embarrass that Loshern tomorrow.”

Kir’s mouth twitched into a reluctant smile and he nodded, “Very well. Lead the way, Anur.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

“So here’s a question,” Anur murmured as they waited in the back of the temple with the twins and Devek, those townsfolk who had come for the Sun Rising service filing out past them. “I thought, ranking wise, Firestarters were between red-robes and black-robes – wouldn’t this guy technically be of a higher rank than you?”

“Technically speaking, yes – practically speaking, probably given he has more connections in the priesthood itself almost by default. But remember, Firestarters don’t just police the _people_ for witch-powers and heresy, we police the _priesthood_. It takes far less to burn a priest than it does an everyday citizen. So even though he may rank me – though given his second-order summoning and circuit judge duties, I think I outrank him in pure paper trails – treating me and those under my authority with disrespect is a good way to earn a hunt,” Kir replied lowly, a wry smile on his face, “Of course, that is if I were the usual stereotypical Firestarter, ready to burn anyone who so much as looks at me oddly.”

Anur stared at him blankly before burying his face in his hands, a muffled groan escaping, “It’s like noble hierarchies,” he grumbled, “Except _worse_.”

Kir chuckled, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically, “I’m afraid so. It’s not something anyone outside the priesthood is expected to know though, so you don’t have to learn it.”

“Yes I do,” Anur sighed, shoulders slumping, “If I’m following you around, odds are I’ll need it. Incoming.”

They both straightened and Kir acknowledged the approaching black-robe with a nod, Loshern echoing it before turning his attention to Balin and Galen. It was clear by the way his gaze darted between the two that he couldn’t tell which one he had actually struck down the night before – Kir had only just figured out the trick to telling them apart, so he couldn’t blame the man too much for that – before he finally figured it didn’t matter and offered a bow to them both.

“I must apologize for my rash accusations last night,” Loshern said formally, straightening to gaze at all three of the Sunsguard – good, he was going to apologize to the entire group then. “My… prior experiences, with some of the Sunsguard colored my interpretation of events and I judged you unfairly.”

Devek inclined his head and said coolly, “You apology is appreciated, Holiness. Father Kir, have you need of us?”

“No – you three are planning to relieve Senior Lieutenant Janner?”

“Yes sir, and he reminds you both that you need to sleep at some point, as you’ve been working since we arrived,” Lieutenant Korisho said, before saluting them both – offering a half bow to Loshern – and following the twins out.

“I burned that bridge rather thoroughly,” Loshern sighed, “I don’t suppose any further measures can be taken?”

“No,” Kir said shortly, sighing at the flinch the older man gave and continuing, “You’re not the only one judging people by uniform, Summoner Loshern.”

“Ah,” the man winced, hand running over the black robes of his station, “I… forgot, about that. I work primarily as a circuit judge.”

“Then the matter of the Sunsguard you are investigating?” Kir raised an eyebrow, “It’s rare that something within the guard requires a circuit judge.”

“You have me there,” the other priest smiled ruefully, “But it is a bit of a tale – Brother Charic has offered use of his quarters so we might discuss it over tea?”

Kir cut a glance to Anur, who shrugged, how helpful, before he nodded agreement.

“My apologies, I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” Loshern said as he led the way into the attached priest’s quarters. Rather common, for a temple this size, to have attached quarters. The smaller towns had separate cottages for the priest, but for larger temples it was considered more convenient for the priest’s quarters to simply be part of the temple structure.

“Lieutenant-Enforcer Anur Bellamy,” Anur said shortly, preceding Kir into the room and checked the corners of the room in a subtly obvious manner.

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” Loshern said, pouring mugs of tea for the three of them before they all took a seat near the hearth, banked coals all that remained of the fire that had undoubtedly been going the night previously. They were still hot enough to heat water for tea though – which meant if this meeting was in fact a trap, he would be able to impress the Summoner without necessarily killing him.

“I have worked with Firestarters before but have never met one of their First-Order – I thought there was only the one, in Sunhame?”

That was… unexpected. Both the claim of working with Firestarters before, unusual for a circuit judge, much less a summoner, and the curiosity as to his ranking. Entirely off topic from the reason he’d asked to speak with them, but an interesting bit of information nonetheless.

“There are as many First-Order Firestarters as are needed,” Kir replied blandly, “As far as I am aware, there are only the two of us, but I cannot say I have kept in much contact with the other members of my Order. Bandits and Hardornens have kept me occupied. Now, the Sunsguard?”

“Yes, yes, apologies, I was simply curious. I suppose the reports of Hardornen blood-magic are accurate then, if you have invested an Enforcer?” this dodging of the previously stated topic was getting annoying.

Well, he wanted a Firestarter of the First Order. Why not give him what he asked for?

Coals flared to life and Kir straightened in his seat, letting his face take on the grimly authoritative cast he usually paired with a flash of Sunhame-sealed orders.

“So they have been receiving my reports then,” he said coolly, allowing flames to sputter and flicker in the hearth, Loshern unable to prevent himself form leaning back and away from both Kir and the flames – it was a slight movement, but it meant he was no longer on the offensive. “We had wondered if they were simply being ignored or… brushed aside, as _unimportant_.”

“Short-sighted of them,” Anur murmured, leaning back in his own chair and watching Loshern with half-lidded eyes – the Herald was good at this. “Blood mages are, after all, our most ancient enemies.”

“I do not know,” Loshern forced out, “I simply heard rumors and those Firestarters I worked with often grumbled about being unable to prove the claims of blood-magic, as they were not allowed near the border. I took your Enforcer’s presence as evidence of their existence.”

Kir tilted his head to one side and made a show of thinking over the man’s excuse – he didn’t doubt that he was telling the truth, but this was a performance, after all – before inclining his head slightly and dousing the flames entirely with a wave of his hand. Anur simply took a sip of his tea and offered a friendly smile; given his almost predatory look a few moments previous, it was surprisingly creepy.

“Apologies for my over-reaction,” Kir said, leaning back in his own chair and giving a rueful smile, “But it has been frustrating, to send report after report regarding blood magic and their consequences entering Karse to receive exactly nothing in reply. I am surprised that my request for an Enforcer commission was even answered, but that only made the utter lack of reply even more frustrating. I had not thought it possible.”

Judging by Loshern’s still pale face and the tight lines around his eyes, their act had served to put him entirely on edge and now he thought they were fanatics ready to hunt down witches wherever they resided and burn them alive.

Well, so long as one used the most ancient definition of ‘witch’, that wouldn’t be entirely inaccurate so far as he was concerned.

“Now, what was this regarding the Sunsguard? As I said, I have not heard of a case where the Sunsguard would require a circuit-judge outside of histories,” Kir asked, trying to bring their entire conversation back to the initial topic, taking a sip of tea. It was good tea, shame he couldn’t actually enjoy it fully.

Loshern finally sighed, saying, “They aren’t in need of my services as a circuit-judge, they think they are in need of my services as an exorcist.”

“ _Lothga_? Again?” Anur groaned, Kir shaking his head, “No,” he corrected, “Witach’s brood doesn’t call for an exorcist – they are less individualized. You say ‘they think’, you do not think that you are needed?”

The other priest blinked, looking between the two of them and relaxing a bit, that curious gleam coming back into his hazel eyes, “No – I’ve worked as an exorcist for fifteen years, summoner for five before that and a simple circuit judge for two. I’ve performed twelve exorcisms, ten when I was actually officially called to do so, and every time I _knew_ when the case was one I could help with. There’s none of that feeling here, and actually a sense that I should avoid the situation entirely – though, I’m afraid I cannot tell if that has a similar source as my prescience on exorcisms or if it is simply my bias against the Sunsguard. Now – if you don’t mind me asking – _lothga_? The old Witach’s brood rhyme? You actually dealt with some?”

“One, around one moon ago,” Kir replied, “The headwaters of a village’s spring were in Hardorn, the creature slipped in there and followed through – we were able to draw it out and destroy it with flames and steel, then purify the waters.”

“Any deaths?”

“None from the lothga, three from misguided dead trying to help,” Kir shrugged, very aware that the entire scenario sounded outlandish and, if it were any other than a true exorcist, he would never tell the story, even abbreviated, “They too, were sent on.”

“Fascinating – unfortunate, of course, but fascinating,” the man murmured, Anur raising an eyebrow and looking over at Kir. It was obvious he was wondering why Kir was talking about this when they had just finished an intimidation act on the man, and he made a mental note to explain later.

“And a solid proof for blood magic,” Kir said, grimacing as he continued, “I reported it, in addition to a woken Firestarter, but have received nothing in return.”

“That is unusual,” the older priest, in his late thirties at the earliest, said, frowning. He looked out the window at the rain, faint daylight highlighting the grey in his hair, before he turned to them and asked, “A woken Firestarter and no word?”

“The last time I heard from Sunhame it was to confirm my selection of Enforcer and authorize the commission,” Kir grimaced, “That was nearly a year ago, now.”

“Blood magic and a fresh Firestarter,” the man murmured, the three sitting in more comfortable silence now as they drank their tea. Kir hoped that there was some sort of conversational conclusion coming up, he was exhausted and what energy he had drawn from this meeting was fading rather quickly now that the tension had dispersed. Amazing, what reference to near unheard of monsters and preferably unspoken of demons could do.

“I have a proposition,” Loshern said finally, looking between the two of them, “I do not think I am needed for this Sunsguard problem, I truly don’t. And they have no word as to who is being sent – there was simply a summons for a priest to investigate suspicious circumstances, the circumstances being odd suicides. I find it more likely that it is something _you_ are set to deal with, as a Firestarter. So, I propose that I pass off this mission to you and yours, while I promise to investigate the circumstances of your alerts being ignored, and this woken Firestarter. Why did you not take him with you?”

“An untrained Firestarter in the middle of a three-way war between an under-supported Sunsguard unit, bandits and Hardornens? Plus the awakening of old monsters under Ancar’s watch? Please – that is a horrible idea. The boy was also recovering from entrapment by the _lothga_ , taking him from his family immediately after that would be traumatic in the extreme,” Kir retorted, leaving out the explanation regarding his own reputation in the Order and not wanting to stain Rodri with it. Beside that, having to deal with a child, no matter how mature, while ushering in a revolution was an equally horrifying prospect.

“Ah, good points,” the man agreed, “May I have his name?”

“Rodri, of Aulch.”

“Rodri of Aulch, yes, that is unique enough to manage with,” Loshern nodded, “Do you agree?”

Kir didn’t even have to think about it, “Agreed.”

Mere minutes later, Anur and Kir had finished their tea, received the summons from Loshern and were ready to leave and actually get some rest. “Vkandis bless and guide, Brother Loshern,” Kir said, rising to his feet.

“Please,” the man said, offering his hand, “Fredric, Brother.”

“Then I insist you call me Kir,” he replied, shaking the man’s hand with a small smile. He would never actually trust him, not after he had nearly killed Balin without hearing anyone out, but basic allies were good to have.

An exchange of blessings, Anur giving his own short farewell, and they were out the door. They made it onto the streets before Anur finally asked, “What was _that_ all about?”

***===***pagebreak***===***

It seemed that the majority of his time in Karse would be spent in a state of perpetual confusion. It was a good thing he trusted Kir so much, it made following his lead blindly much easier to do and didn’t require much thought.

The intimidation act had been expected; they were both exhausted, this blasted summoner kept dancing around the reason he’d asked to speak with them in the first place, and he kept _poking_ at things best left alone, like Kir’s relationship with the rest of the Firestarting Order. Then somehow the tone of the conversation had entirely shifted and Kir was treating the man with respect and Loshern was actually giving straight answers.

Kir sighed and jerked his head toward the stables housing their horses. Paying for two rooms for six of them to take in shifts seemed a sensible fiscal decision at the time, but with Janner at the least down and out and the inn staff probably lingering around their doors, it also meant there was no chance for a potentially private discussion.

Stables in the rain worked much better, especially with Aelius to keep watch. He also didn’t get much time to spend with Aelius with the disguise they had going, even in the barracks of the 62nd – he was making an effort to avoid rubbing his Heraldic nature in people’s faces – so the thought was appreciated.

“Fredric Loshern is an exorcist,” Kir said when they finally entered the stables, doors sliding shut behind them.

_:No one else here Chosen,:_ Aelius supplied, and when Anur relayed the information Kir nodded and dropped down to sit on a bench against the tack-room’s wall with a sigh. Anur leaned against Aelius’ stable door instead, his Companion whickering happily before shoving his head under Anur’s arm so he’d scratch his ears.

_:Spoiled horse,:_ he said fondly, Kir laughing softly and Anur looked over at him with a grin before asking, “What does that have to do with anything? You were all ready to just roll over him and ignore anything he had to say – but that’s important?”

Kir snorted, “Very. Herald, is there anything regarding demonic possession – or spirit possession, possession of any sort – in your lore? Songs, stories, religious rites?”

He thought about it, racking his memory, but couldn’t find anything. Not his history classes, those creepy stories people would tell around candle-light, or bardic stories of old magic and evil. But… he still knew what Kir was talking about, and not just because of the Writ.

_:It is something that is often forgotten – forgotten until you need to know,:_ Aelius said quietly, Anur replying, _:You remember then? Or at least know something?:_

_:Indeed. It is not something Heralds deal with unless there is no other choice – Companions and Heralds can serve as stand-ins for religious figures, but a religious figure, preferably of the possessed person’s own faith, does best. It is very rare though, Chosen. The last case I can recall was easily centuries ago – somewhere around Firestorm’s day, I think.:_

“Not much,” Anur said aloud, “Apparently we two can deal with it, but priests are better, and it’s rare. Last one was centuries ago. I mean – there are stories, rumors, from the Outlanders, mostly, especially with Gifts that pop up and aren’t recognized – accused of being evil, of being witches – it’s not just here that that happens. It’s just… more organized accusations.”

“Hmm. That makes this easier and more difficult at the same time,” Kir sighed, a rueful smile on his face, “You don’t have any horror stories and old tales with bogus cures to work through, but you also don’t know what I’m even talking about or why his calling is worthy of respect.”

“So exorcist isn’t… a political title? It’s not something he was granted because of friends in high places or something like that?” Anur guessed, “There’s no ranking for it – he just said exorcist, not exorcist first order or something like that so… there aren’t many of them?”

“Three or four at a time, if that,” Kir agreed, looking suddenly _old_ – far beyond his years, and it was unsettling. “My Firestarting mentor was friends with one, and I worked with another in my acolyte years. Meeting even two – three now – is highly unusual, even within the priesthood.”

“How do you become one then?”

“It’s a calling,” Kir shrugged, hands spreading in a helpless gesture, “I have no other way to explain it. It is not something you _seek_ to become, not like I sought being a Firestarter. You are called to it, usually by the Sunlord guiding circumstances so you are forced into situations where you must serve as one. All priests can, technically, serve as exorcists – again, technically, I have. That is what I did with those soldiers, I sent them on to their rest.”

“But you don’t claim the title,” Anur said thoughtfully, eyes widening at Kir’s convulsive shudder at the thought.

“Never,” Kir said shortly, “I would _never_ claim that title. Exorcists, true exorcists, don’t just usher on the unquiet dead. They deal with true evil, wretched things, that try to don human skin in order to further their ends. And not a single _one_ of them has died peacefully. Every exorcist I have ever heard of, bar Loshern seeing as he still breathes, has died bloody, messy deaths. It takes a very brave, special person to actually become a true exorcist, and a true calling, one that I, thank the One God, have never had.”

“Okay then – no exorcist here, got it. Why are we investigating this thing for him then, if it was sent his way in the first place? And the _lothga_ didn’t count, why?” the last was almost an after-thought, because that thing had been terrifying, so how come it didn’t deserve the same level of response?

“Because, as he said, it did not feel a job he was required to do,” Kir shrugged, uncurling from the defensive posture he’d taken at the idea of being called an exorcist, “It is a calling, Anur. Loshern claimed to simply _know_ when his services were required, and it is common to the other two exorcists I have met. So if he says he has no such knowledge, no feeling that he is needed – then he is not.”

_:Or Kir is supposed to deal with it so he faces this ‘calling by circumstances’ but let’s not mention that,:_ Aelius commented wryly.

Kir either didn’t notice Anur’s face at that comment or ignored it, the latter far more likely, and he continued, “As for the _lothga_ – it wasn’t evil.”

“Umm… soul-sucking monster?” Anur asked incredulously, waving his arms in a vain attempt to capture the soul-sucking evilness of that thing they’d faced down.

Kir chuckled at his reply, shaking his head, “Yes, a monster – but not _evil_. A monster like… like a wolf, starved and desperate for food, going for people and children rather than sheep. It was not _malicious_ in its intent. The things that true exorcists deal with – they are malicious, they actively seek to harm and cause pain because that gives them _pleasure_ , not because they feed off the energies or anything along those lines. By those standards, even the Furies aren’t truly evil – they are used by evil people, for evil purposes, many times, but they aren’t evil in and of themselves.”

_:A fine distinction – and one I’m not truly surprised Kir, of all people, has made,:_ Aelius said, voice fond, _:It is a very good thing, to know him.:_

_:Of course it is, it’s Kir,:_ Anur replied blithely, a smile on his face. “All right,” he said, “Then what are we probably dealing with? A rash of suicides, wasn’t it?”

Kir pulled the summons out of his sleeves, eyeing it with bemused weariness before he said, “I suppose we’d best read this before we plan anything.”

“Probably a good idea, yes,” Anur chuckled. At least, if they were going monster hunting again, they might escape this storm-system for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the exorcists here… based sorta on Roman Catholic exorcism/possession traditions, just because that’s the only exorcism tradition I have any real exposure too. A lot was made up to fit The Plot. Only thing that didn’t come purely from my brain or for The Plot was the horrible deaths bit: a class I took had a Catholic priest as a speaker and exorcisms came up and that stuck with me – every exorcist he’d met (2 or 3 I think) had died horrible deaths. Don’t remember much else from that lecture, but that stuck with me so here it is. Stuck with Kir too.


	7. On Witches and Demons (and distinctions thereof)

“So why exactly are we heading west, instead of back to the 62nd? Not that I’m complaining, mind,” Devek added hastily, looking back over his shoulder at the bank of clouds stretching north into the 62nd’s domain. The rain hadn’t let up, even waiting an additional day, so the group had determined to simply slog through it – they had delivered their supplies, as promised, and even helped out, more than promised, so there was nothing to keep them there past the weather. And now they had a reason to leave.

“You are not all needed,” Kir said, before adding wryly, “But I thought we could at least move into a dry area before splitting.”

“Much appreciated, Father. There was an actual reason for the westward direction then?” Senior Lieutenant Janner asked, taking off his oiled coat with a relieved sigh.

“Hmm. Father Fredric asked that I look into something for him – a potential exorcism case.”

Balin choked on the water he was drinking, hacking and choking as his brother pounded his back a little too hard to be helpful. “What?” he croaked, shooting his brother a glare.

“Not an actual exorcism, or at least, highly unlikely,” Kir could tell his attempt to reassure them wasn’t going particularly well, but he had to try. “It’s in exchange for him looking into the matter of my reports on blood magic and how they are ignored – as well as Rodri.”

“Rodri? That boy from Mal’s village?” Galen asked in surprise, “Why would he need to be looked into?”

“He’s a woken Firestarter, if I’m not mistaken,” Kir replied, “In order to keep him from being pulled for the flames I had to report him as such, but nothing has come of it, at least not towards me, which is most irregular, and something I can finally set someone else on without worrying about blowing our entire arrangement’s security. Also, the _lothga_ is undeniable proof of blood-magic, so there should have been some response by the rest of the Firestarters, but there has been nothing. So either those reports aren’t being passed on to them, or the Order has forgotten their purpose.”

While his reassurances weren’t working, they were at least sidetracked by the fact he was fully explaining his actions, including explanations on the internal dynamics of the priesthood. Very unusual, and hopefully enough to get at least some of them to go along with this. While he didn’t need all of them, doing this with just two people, one witch-horse and a well-trained regular horse could be difficult.

They mulled on that for a moment, before their corpsman sighed and said, “I suppose there are activities indicating a possible exorcism case, sir?”

“Strange and repeated suicides,” Kir replied with an absent frown, recalling the summons Loshern had handed over. “They’ve managed to save one or two, but they just keep trying until they succeed – the targets seem random, but when the report was sent, two had died and one had been stopped but was expected to manage it before any aid arrived. The missive was dated six days ago.”

“Six days? To get to Sunhame, be distributed and then get to us?” Galen burst, “That’s - ! They’re very worried, sir, to damn near founder a messenger or two.”

“Exactly,” Kir said grimly, “So. You are not all needed, but I’m going.”

He didn’t need to see them to know that there were speaking looks being passed around behind him and Anur, the Herald quite calmly scanning the damp road and countryside for any other travelers and giving no indication to the nerves he’d acquired the night before when he made the mistake of asking for some exorcism lore. One would think he’d stop asking those sorts of things before they tried to sleep.

“I guess we’re going to stop a suicide-spirit-monster-thing,” Devek sighed, “We’ll all come, Father. Any ideas as to what we might be facing?”

“None whatsoever, beyond being almost completely certain it’s not an actual malicious demonic entity,” Kir replied with mock cheer.

By the groans that came from behind him, the twins, at least, knew just how many things _weren’t_ covered by that still-not-quite guarantee.

A bare two marks later, they were at the barracks in question and Kir was wishing he had told Loshern to suck it up and deal with the problem himself, to the hells with an exchange of favors. The gates were opened by pale-faced and clearly terrified conscripts and before Kir could ask after the Commander, shouts sent him vaulting off Riva and sprinting towards a man who’d suddenly drawn a knife and gone for his own throat.

The knife dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers as Kir knocked it away, the officer swearing and shaking as he stared at his own hands like they’d betrayed him. Resting a hand on the man’s shoulders, Kir looked at him and commanded, “Tell me everything.”

While he had hoped to get the story then and there, Janner showed up and manhandled the other officer towards the temple, Anur and the twins vanishing with the horses while Devek and he followed. A runner took off, presumably to the officer in charge – hopefully the Captain was still alive, otherwise this might get much messier.

When the officer, who introduced himself as Senior Lieutenant Marghi, was settled on a pew with a mug of tea in his hands – Kir had heated the water, it was faster that way – he finally started talking.

“It started about a week ago,” the man said, “We’d just finished a skirmish protecting a caravan. Not many losses – five, much better than usual, this area’s riddled with caves, makes it next to impossible to clear the place out.”

“How many days between the skirmish and the first suicide?” Kir prompted.

“One,” Marghi grimaced, gulping down tea. “Didn’t think much of it, man was the quiet sort, not suited for combat at all, only got sent here because he couldn’t pay his tithe. Wasn’t a surprise, sorry to say. But the next one – didn’t make any sense. Not particularly cheerful, but had a – well, had a year to go and an understanding with a local woman, Your Holiness. Something to live for. Then the priest and the Captain _saw_ the next one – chatting with him, getting a report when he goes for a knife to gut himself. He… he was stopped but – well. Two days into a watch and he managed. The Captain sent our fastest rider out with a message for aid and I guess that is where you came in.”

“Indeed,” Kir said, looking up when the temple doors open and the Captain strode in, tawny-haired man looking worn and ragged from the past week.

“Please tell me you can get whatever wretch is causing this,” the man said bluntly, Kir about to say something about how he would try, even though internally he had next to no idea as to what to do with this, it didn’t match _any_ of the case studies he remembered when the doors opened again and Anur strode in, a struggling Devek over his shoulder with the twins following, saying, “I’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

Devek suddenly stopped struggling and groaned, “What was _that_?” Anur setting him on his feet and continuing blithely, “And some better news.”

“Well, go ahead,” Kir sighed, grabbing Devek’s arm and examining his eyes for a moment – nothing there but fear and confusion.

“Not a spirit-monster-demon thing,” Anur said confidently, “And apparently, anyone standing within a certain radius of _you_ is protected.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

It had occurred to him as they were stabling the horses, Aelius providing a great sounding board. They had walked in and at that _exact moment_ someone had tried to kill themselves. Not only that, but the moment Kir got near the man in question, he stopped, apparently regained his senses and was horrified by what he had done unwittingly. So either they were being watched and baited, or Kir had some anti-suicide-monster aura.

_:Unfortunately we can’t rule out ‘divinely arranged coincidence’ according to that bit on an exorcist receiving their calling. Though I’d like that fate to be taken off the table, it’s still an option.:_

_:Equally unfortunate, I can’t argue with you,:_ Anur replied. Oh for the days when coincidences were just that, and didn’t need to be stared at with an eye for not only human, but divine conspiracy.

 _:Though I suppose all coincidences could be argued to be divine conspiracy, as the humanly arranged ones were only possible because of the individuals existence,:_ Aelius mused, tone indicating he was about to get sidetracked, and with Aelius, if he went for very long it took a lot to get him back on topic.

 _:Focus, Aelius,:_ Anur chided, _:Suicide monster, remember?:_

_:Right, right, apologies Chosen. Just seems sort of pointless, to go against divine will – if they’re taking care of everything, what’s the point in our doing anything?:_

_:…Aelius?:_

_:What’s the point in_ anything _for that - :_

“Lieutenant-Enforcer!”

The shout of alarm drew him from Aelius bizarrely maudlin thoughts, Devek halfway through the motion to slit his wrists. “Here!” he cried, hand raising and knife flying into it – he could worry about witnesses later, right now he had to fly tackle a man going for a nearby bit of rope.

“Get his hands!” Anur shouted, the twins grabbing the rope he’d been aiming for and tying his hands together, Devek struggling still, eyes mad with despair and panic.

 _:AELIUS!:_ he shouted, the twins dragging Devek upright and looking at him for instructions, but right now he needed to make sure his Companion wasn’t going to do something stupid because of what he doubted was a spirit or monster of any sort.

 _:My apologies Chosen that was – ugh. That was horrible,:_ the recently stabled Companion shook his head and snorted, _:And most certainly_ not _a monster. I know what to watch for now, Chosen. I can fight it off. Besides, I doubt it’s going to focus on_ me _, I’m not exactly human. I was caught in the backwash of going for Lieutenant Korisho. Watch his head!:_

Anur grabbed the Lieutenant before he twisted his way into bashing his head against a sharp corner, throwing him over his shoulder and using his Gift to keep him there – locking his boots and the rope binding his wrists into place should do the trick. At least until he got him to Kir – though now that he knew what it was, he wasn’t sure if Kir actually had an anti-suicide field of some sorts.

_:I think he does – I can’t read him, remember, and it’s not our sort of mind-shields, at least not entirely. I think he uses his Gift, somehow, to keep foreign influences out… to burn them away, if you will. Even with extended exposure, all I can do is detect the presence of his Gift and whether or not it’s active, not mood or surface thoughts or anything along those lines.:_

_:So get Devek close enough to him and it should go away?:_

_:I think you could extend your own mental shields – I’d give you a boost, of course – and it would block him. If I’m not mistaken, Kir’s claiming you as a brother has made it so you’re not recognized as ‘foreign’ to him anymore… your shields are augmented somehow, I just hadn’t noticed because you don’t shield from me anymore.:_

_:Well of course not, we know how that works out,:_ Anur sighed, guessing Kir had headed for the temple, it was the most likely place after all. _:So he has some sort of invisible fire-wall surrounding him to keep people from getting into his head?:_

_:…Something like that, yes.:_

_:And there’s a fire-wall thing enhancing my shields?:_

_:Something with a touch of flame and foreign power, yes,:_ Aelius confirmed, _:This is actually fascinating, I’ll have to look into this more.:_

_:Focus, Aelius, focus. You were saying I could expand my shields and cut this guy off if Kir’s radius doesn’t work?:_

_:We should be able to do it between the two of us,:_ his Companion agreed, _:Shielding another’s mind is common enough in espionage.:_

Deciding quite firmly to _not_ question how his Companion knew that, Anur focused on the two conclusions he had drawn that he was certain about. One was good news, the result of that good news could be called bad news, but everything relied on presentation.

“I’ve got some good news and some bad news,” he called, eyeing the crowd in the temple and hoping Devek didn’t struggle his way right off his shoulder. The averted suicide, Janner and Kir, and an unfamiliar man in Captain’s garb. Good, at least they could get authorization for dealing with this quickly with the Captain here.

Once he was within ten meters of Kir, Devek stopped struggling and asked in clear bewilderment, “What was _that_?” Anur sighing in relief at the confirmation of his most hopeful theory and setting the man down, “And some better news,” he continued.

“Well, go ahead,” Kir sighed, grabbing Devek’s arm and examining the lieutenant himself.

“Not a spirit-monster-demon thing,” Anur said confidently, “And apparently, anyone standing within a certain radius of _you_ is protected. Guessing ten meters or so.”

Kir took one look at him before grabbing his arm and dragging him further away, though careful to stay within ten meters of the group. “Not a spirit,” he murmured, expression worried, “A witch then, in the modern sense?”

“I think it’s a case of projective empathy gone completely screwy,” Anur replied quietly, “Between Aelius and I we can probably track it down – “

_:We can, Chosen, I just need to focus a bit – empathy is a little odd to ferret out.:_

“We can track it down,” Anur corrected, “Just takes a bit of time for him to manage. Then it’s a matter of locking down mental shields on the individual in question and they’ll stop driving other people to it.”

“Will you be able to lock them down without compromising yourself?” Kir asked seriously, “And once you’ve got them locked down, will they be able to be questioned? If we simply kill someone and ride off into the distance, it will… leave things open to interpretation. Something like this needs to have loose ends tied up and answered, even if the answers are shadings of the truth, otherwise worse rumors end up spreading.”

“I’m definitely familiar with that,” Anur grimaced, recalling a few incidents when he rode circuit – blessedly few – where that came into play. “And yes, I think so. Mind if I spread the word about the ten meters bit?”

Kir groaned, “I’m going to be surrounded – go ahead, it’s better that than someone else die. Actually, I think the Captain already went to go and do just that.”

He rested a hand on Anur’s shoulder and eyed him worriedly, “Be careful – I thought we’d agreed after the _lothga_ you wouldn’t serve as bait anymore?”

“Oh but here I’m not bait,” Anur grinned, “I’m the hunter.”

_:Got them, Chosen!:_

“Got ‘em,” Anur relayed, turning on his heel and heading for the door. Galen quickly fell in behind him and only gave him a grim smile at Anur’s questioning glance. Well, at least he had company. Had best keep an eye on him though, in case the empath managed to snag him.

_:Down the main stretch, left… barracks – ground floor.:_

Anur followed Aelius’ directions, keeping an eye out for any further suicides and getting an eyeful of men parting before him like he was some vengeful lord. Part of it was undoubtedly the fact they had heard a Firestarter was here to deal with the problem and they wanted the suicides to end, but another was most definitely the red sash across his chest. It was interesting, to see the sort of authority an Enforcer held in the Sunsguard – any of that authority in the 62nd was entirely undercut by the fact that literally everyone knew he was actually a Herald and had next to no clue what being an Enforcer truly meant.

He was getting better though – it apparently involved following a Firestarter through hell and high water, serving as monster bait, stepping between angry judgmental priests and other Sunsguard and resolving not-quite exorcism situations. Most of those fell under the first, which worked out nicely as that was something he was more than capable of.

_:Further back, bit more on the left – behind you!:_

Anur twisted around to see Galen drawing a knife and he slammed the slightly smaller man into the wall, hand pressed against his forehead as he focused on his constant mental shields _expanding_ as best he could, feeling Aelius push in behind him to shore them up. He could tell it worked when the scout stopped struggling towards his knife, shuddering as he asked, “What was that?”

“That was the person we’re after,” Anur said grimly, letting him go but careful to keep his shields up and _out_ rather than compressed and in to keep them strong around his mind. It thinned the protection around them both a bit, but at least it was there still.

He could feel it – an underlying despair, utter and complete desolation and wretched _grief_ , gods it was horrible how could anyone go _on_ like this - ?

_:Chosen!:_

Anur shook himself, forcing his hand to rest on the door handle he’d stopped in front of and he snarled, dragging into his mind as many positive memories, as many friends, as many things as he could to burn that grief not his own away. Shoving the door open, he flinched at the mad-eyed man standing in the corner, a grief-stricken pallor on his face even as he hissed mad curses interspersed with grieving laments, hoarse and weak from what was undoubtedly days of talking.

 _:Mirror-shields!:_ he called to Aelius, stripping his shields down from Galen and instead building them up around the empath’s mind – immediately the man’s hands went for his own throat, apparently all his knives were gone – and Anur grabbed him, which was a mistake.

Despair clawed at his throat and he wanted to _scream_ because _he was gone_ and there was _nothing_ to bring his heart-and-soul brother back and those bastards had _burned him_ but he was dying _anyway_ and he couldn’t choose between death and vengeance all he wanted was gone and all he could do was die but he wouldn’t just _die_ just let him _die please oh please God Vkandis Sunlord_ –

“Father Kir!” a familiar voice shouted, something manhandling him and dragging him along just leave him _alone_ he needed to starve himself, waste away something _anything_ to just _die_ (keep the shields up, had to keep the shields up, this would work just keep the shields up one more moment) there was nothing to be done all that he had left was to find a way to _peace_ to _death_ -

Black-trimmed red-robes flared into view and he blurted, “I’m a Herald!” and the voices in his mind ceased, Anur dropping to one knee and clutching at his head with a groan.

A shocked silence followed that sentence, Aelius panicking in the back of his mind before Kir silenced those worries with a laugh, “Well that’s one way to work around a suicide compulsion,” he said wryly.

Anur grinned, his subconscious was a _genius_ , looking up at his friend, “Well it’s not like claiming that in front of a Firestarter isn’t a sure way to die! Locking him down meant locking him in with _me_ , didn’t think that through particularly well I’m afraid.”

“I’m simply grateful you somehow latched on to admitting to being a White Demon, of all things, as a means of suicide rather than going for a knife. Second Scout Galen might have had trouble restraining the both of you,” Kir said wryly, helping him to his feet before they both turned to Galen, who was restraining the struggling madman in question with his brother’s help now.

“I appreciate it, sir,” Galen panted, “Now that we’ve got him, what are we supposed to do with him?”

The unit’s captain stepped forward, Galen had dragged both of them all the way to the temple, he’d have to thank him for that later, saying, “Ensign Nacht?”

A snarl was the response, mutterings about death being too good for them before the man’s struggles momentarily ceased and he collapsed in on himself in grief, ramblings coming through broken sobs – Galen didn’t loosen his grip, it had probably been a repeating cycle then. From what Anur remembered of the emotional whirlwind he’d been dragged in to, it had gone between wild rage and a complete shattering grief and despair.

The captain, wide-eyed and obviously entirely out of his depth, shook his head and stepped back, “He’s snapped,” he said in shock, “Completely and entirely – it has happened before but… to drive others to it?”

“A witch-power, woken by trauma,” Kir said bluntly, “You agree death is what he seeks?”

“Undoubtedly,” the man froze, finally registering what Kir had first said, continuing cautiously, “A witch-power, you say?”

Kir took two swift steps forward and with a deft twist, snapped the still limp man’s neck, the unmistakable crack echoing in the silent temple. Surprisingly silent, given the number of people that had crammed in – apparently to be within the ten meter safe zone. It was amazing Kir had made it over to the door as quickly as he had – the fear-inducing robes were good for something then.

“He was driven mad, and in madness one is not held accountable for their actions, both in court of law and the Sunlord’s judgment,” Kir said, every word carrying a heavy weight, “May his mind and soul be healed in Sunheart where peace awaits him. He shall be burned with the honorable dead.”

“It will be done, Firestarter,” the captain said immediately, Galen and Balin gently stretching out the dead man in question, straightening his neck and shutting his eyes so it appeared he merely died in his sleep. “As our chaplain fell victim to this madness yesterday, would you be willing to conduct the ceremony?”

“Of course,” Kir nodded.

“I will send a runner when the pyres are built,” he said, turning to the men in the temple and barking orders, the crowd quickly dispersing and leaving the two of them. The others of the 62nd had apparently volunteered to help or just wanted to get out of the temple they’d been stuck in for this unnerving, though short, hunt, leaving just the two of them in the Sunlord’s sanctuary.

“I can’t believe I actually said that,” Anur groaned, dropping down to sit on a pew, Kir slumping next to him with a snort, “I can’t believe I had to snap another man’s neck inside a temple – this seems to be a pattern.”

Anur bumped shoulders with him, saying quietly, “Hey – there wasn’t any other choice, either case. Especially not here. All he wanted was to die, and like you said, he was completely mad. Better this death than one he would have been condemned to.”

“He was gone then? Completely and utterly?” Kir asked tiredly, and Anur could read the desire for reassurance and explanation easily enough, so he provided.

“When I blocked him – accidentally trapping myself in there too – it was between rage and despair. I think… there was something about a heart-soul brother, and him being dead. Dying and then being burned?” Anur shook his head, “I’m not sure about that bit, but definitely a heart-soul brother being dead and there being nothing left to live for, but not being certain about the justice of the death – he was torn between vengeance and suicide and apparently trying to decide drove him mad?”

The last sentence turned into a query, as the theory was definitely weak but he couldn’t think of anything else.

Aelius provided, mind-voice still shaken, _:Projective empathy seldom comes without at least some receptive empathy. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had bound his entire Gift into his partner, it’s a rare Gift and if he had someone to focus it on, that’s all he’d need to keep it under wraps for the most part. It would just be as if the two of them knew each other so well it was like they shared a soul – not uncommon in shield-brothers, being able to read one another well is almost expected. But when that focus broke, his mind and heart did, as well as his hold on his Gift, leading to it lashing out wildly – then everyone was scared and worried about this suicide monster and it fed back into him, and it just escalated and got worse.:_

He relayed that to Kir, who nodded thoughtfully, gaze on the inlaid wood Sun-in-Glory at the front of the temple. “That makes sense,” he said finally, “And as for the dying and then burning – you recall the pyres, that we build for our dead? Sending those who died on the battlefield to Vkandis?”

“Yes,” Anur nodded, frowning, “Someone once called it… a battle-tithe, I think?”

Kir smiled at him, “It is heartening, to know it is not always called that in the 62nd anymore. Yes, a battle-tithe. It’s the common name. The common practice is to take the mortally wounded and burn them on the pyre without granting them mercy first. I hated the practice – always have, always will, for more than one reason. I never burned living faithful for the tithe, and I plan to never do so.”

There was a brief silence, before Anur finally said, “You know, every time I think I’m not going to be surprised, and then something like that comes up and I’m newly horrified. This… these are going to be hard to undo, Kir.”

“Hard, but worth it,” Kir said passionately, eyes again locked on the emblem of his God. “By the Sunlord, it will be so worth it.”

The pyres were burned to nothing but ash, the men of the unit in shock still, merely going through the motions of their usual duties. They remained an extra two days to help, sending off reports and requests for a replacement chaplain – Kir and Anur went in to the nearest town and recruited the priest there to come out and serve as a chaplain until the replacement arrived. One of his acolytes took over for the town itself, but the Sunsguard had been deeply wounded in spirit by this mishap and needed a more experienced hand.

It was a relief when they finally rode out three days after they had arrived with tales of a potential demonic possession. Though nowhere near as bad as those wretches, it was almost worse for having no one to truly blame, no enemy to point to and say “It is deservedly dead.” But it was done and over, and they were, at last, heading to the 62nd.

When they reached the 62nd the next day, it was a relief to find all they’d missed was a successful coordination between Captain Naomi’s group and their own to clear out another nest. A little surprising was the Sergeant leading a basic lesson on Valdemaran military terminology while conducting drills, but not in an unpleasant way.

For a moment, riding up, they had been worried that some blood-magic monster or one-in-a-million witch-power gone mad had settled in to terrorize _their_ home as well. It was nice to see that nothing of the sort had happened, it was just the usual chaos of ongoing hopefully not-for-long treason.

Rather relaxing, actually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Empathy is the gift that scares me the most. So basically most of my creepy scenarios about Valdemar gone scary are centered around Talia - good times.


	8. The Cold Season

“Explain the witch-weather thing again?” Anur requested, sitting with Kir in the front row of pews, looking up at the windows flanking the Sun-in-Glory. They weren’t particularly high quality glass, but you couldn’t see much out of them anyway right now – the snowstorm was fierce and entirely unusual. The ridiculous rain system that had gone through a moon before had been odd enough, but this much snow this early in the winter? Kir just hoped that the local shepherds had gotten enough warning to hunker down with their sheep – it had been a few years since even one was reported dead of exposure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if that number jumped significantly this year.

Kir propped his feet on the low table they’d dragged out and sipped his heated cider (not alcoholic, unless one counted the portion of _prodka_ he’d added to it). He had already explained this, but it wasn’t as if they had anything else to do while they waited to see who, if anyone, would brave the snow for the Sun Descending service.

“Weather is… extremely delicate,” Kir finally said, deciding to go more into the theory of it rather than the basic ‘it’s Ancar’s fault’ he’d given Ulrich and Greich. “Magic – you remember the ley-lines and nodes? The river and whirlpool analogy?”

“Yes,” Anur said, nodding slowly as he hugged his own mug of cider.

“So when mages draw on that power, pulling it from its natural state, they’re disturbing the natural distribution of magical energy. This energy isn’t just used for magic, it balances _nature_ – at its most basic, magical energy in the ley-lines and nodes is just concentrated natural energy. So when that is thrown out of balance severely enough, so is nature itself.”

“You said Ancar was draining the land, poisoning it,” Anur said, brow furrowed, “So… his mages are pulling energy up and unbalancing things, and then the blood magic poisons it?”

“Mmm… yes, that works,” Kir shrugged, continuing, “Any major magical working upsets the natural balance – without other mages working to restore it immediately, there are consequences. So long as one is judicial in their use of magic and magical energy, the consequences are relatively mild and they disperse rather quickly, but when large groups continuously drain energy without allowing it to replenish itself – things get worse.”

“So when you referred to weather being delicate – it’s the quickest natural thing to be affected? Because it changes so quickly? I mean – you said with the _lothga_ that water carries energy easier, and that just made me think of it moving quickly, and the wind and weather systems move even faster, so they’re… easier to upset?”

“A small change has more dramatic impact on the weather systems, yes,” Kir smiled, “I’m not sure how much that has to do with actual physical speed, but you’re quite good with these concepts.”

“Heh, thanks Kir,” Anur grinned sheepishly before continuing, “So any magical working can impact the weather like this?”

“Yes – I’m hoping with Loshern aware of the blood-magic aspect and hopefully pushing the investigation, some weather-mages will get to work on easing the burden here at least,” Kir grimaced, “That won’t help Valdemar much though.”

“I don’t think Valdemar’s having many problems with it yet,” Anur replied, “The _vrondi_ might be more than a detection barrier – but given how much magic is being thrown around, I doubt weather is going to be held off much longer.”

“And that’s my worry,” Kir sighed, eyeing the completely white windows – flurries and swirls of wind were barely visible in the snow beyond the glass. “Because weather like this is extreme, but seasonable. The worse the disruptions get, the less seasonable the weather will be – and that would ruin farmers.”

Anur grimaced, nodding in acknowledgement of the point. They sat in silence for a time before Anur sighed, saying, “Unfortunately, Aelius and I don’t know what can really be done about it. We can pass the message regarding wizard-weather on, but there’s honestly not much we could actually do about it. Sure, we have some weather-witches, but if what you’re saying about natural energy disruption is right they probably won’t do much good.”

“What do you mean?” Kir asked, startled, “Weather-witches would do brilliantly at adjusting storm systems!”

They stared at each other blankly for a few seconds before Anur grinned, “Haven’t had a translation error in a while, I was wondering when the next one would be. Our weather-witches just predict them – this winter is going to be a bad one, here’s the perfect day for a fall wedding, bad storm’s coming best get the flood-plains ready – that sort of thing. No… adjusting the weather that’s already happening or is about to.”

“Ah- witch and mage are not interchangeable to you,” Kir frowned, “So why do you call them witch? I had thought…”

“It’s tradition,” Anur shrugged, “It’s a type of Gift, according to Aelius, but people with those abilities have been treated as special for much longer than we’ve been around, and weather-witch is just the term that’s come with. The Valdemaran ‘witch’ has just always been translated to the Karsite. Not sure why.”

He was careful to say the term in Valdemaran that time, and it barely resembled the Karsite word for witch at all. Maybe if one went back far enough it would have similar roots, but Kir doubted it would ever be answered. One more intellectual curiosity.

He was about to comment on it when Anur’s expression went distant – unusual nowadays. The Herald was very good at having conversations with Aelius without visible cues, but it was probably difficult to do or at least required conscious effort. Kir definitely understood taking advantage of circumstances where masks could be dropped.

“Huh. Aelius… says the Companions may be able to do something, he’ll get back to us on it,” Anur frowned, “Companions can mess with weather?”

“Probably not individually or you’d never be rained on,” Kir replied, putting that tidbit of knowledge away for later contemplation. There were quite a few things on witch-horses in that corner of his mind – the odd double-vision of an old Herald and a witch-horse in the partial mage-sight, the bleaching of their coat, the minor abilities with illusion and a tendency towards esoteric knowledge Heralds as a whole seemed to have forgotten – one day he’d sit down with pen and paper and really think about it, but until then he’d just collect the information.

“Oh that would be so amazing,” Anur said, a blissful expression on his face, “I wish!”

Kir snorted, bringing down that blissful dream with a wry, “Of course, that would mess up the weather system of your entire country something awful – Heralds are everywhere, not letting it rain whenever a Herald showed up or keeping storms in check based on Heraldic presence? I cannot see that ending well.”

Anur thought about it for a moment before shuddering, “Point.”

The silence that followed was comfortable, listening to the quiet murmur of the Ever Burning Flame and the distant roar and rush of the wind – it was nice, to have this quiet. Since Anur had arrived and been instated as Enforcer – and even before, given the events that had brought them to that point in the first place – it had seemed like they were constantly running into new situations and problems. Certainly, there had been breaks in between, but they were mostly spent preparing for the next crisis, whatever it might be. Moments to simply sit and think, to reflect – they were very rare indeed.

Compared to his first eight years with the 62nd where he had little to do _but_ sit and think and practice fire unless he went hunting for something to do himself, it was incredible. Exhausting at times, but incredible.

Anur grabbed a piece of spice-cake from the package he had brought out – when they’d first decided to wait out here and watch the storm it had been two marks before the service, so they’d dragged out a table, kettle of water, mugs and _prodka_. After the first mark he’d ducked back into their quarters and pulled out spice-cake – not from Synia, that had been gone within a week, so who knew who he’d begged the treat off of this time – and smoked sausage that was left over from their latest ride out to consult with Captain Naomi.

“Do you not have that sort of cake in Valdemar then?” Kir finally asked, “You seem obsessed with it.”

“I am not obsessed,” Anur sniffed, “Merely appreciative of fine flavors.”

His false snobbery disintegrated as soon as he snickered, popping the last bite in his mouth before shrugging and washing it down with tea, saying, “Flavors are different here – different spices. Never tasted anything like that spice-cake in Valdemar, and even the smoked sausage is done differently. And the tea! Your morning tea is almost as bad as _chava_!”

“ _Chava_ is expensive,” Kir snorted, “My tea has just as much of a jolt, but is cheaper. An old herbalist down by Vieldorf taught me the blend – now I buy the herbs from local herbalists and medicine keepers and make my teas myself. It’s easier that way – and cheaper.”

“Kir, I know what you get paid for a stipend, there is definitely not a concern about you running out of money,” Anur said dryly, “Hells, there’s no worry for _me_ running out of money! What do people spend it on? Food and shelter are supplied as part of being in the Sunsguard! I’ve just been buying lots of spice-cake when we go on trips through villages.”

“So _that’s_ where it’s coming fro – wait a minute, we haven’t gone through Karsite villages in weeks at least!”

“Well I pay other people to get it for me – and give them enough there’s change to buy some drinks if they want,” Anur shrugged, a grin on his face, “I like spice-cake.”

“You’re obsessed, I don’t care what you say. As for expenses – what would I spend it on? For the most part I give it back to the quartermaster. I keep some in reserve for myself but at the end of the year I keep a set amount and give the rest back. Helps make Midwinter celebrations more enjoyable,” Kir shrugged.

“Huh – maybe I should start doing that with my own pay,” Anur mused, but Kir shook his head, coughing slightly, “Ah – he may be under the impression that you gave your entire year’s pay to him already.”

Anur looked over at him and raised an eyebrow, asking archly, “Really?”

Kir sighed, “I may have… sent in the paperwork for two Enforcers. So in my own stipend I was given enough to pay for two Enforcers – I give you yours and passed on the second one to the quartermaster. He objected at first but… I persuaded him that my own stipend was more than enough to cover the both of us. Given he’s used to my yearly donations by now, he figured he’d simply get less from that this year, but it would balance out anyway. We’ll have to adjust that next year, as I sent in voiding paperwork for the second Enforcer, but for now it holds.”

“Why didn’t you just tell him you sent in paperwork for two Enforcers so were getting paid double for a year?” Anur asked.

Kir stared at him incredulously, “And make him complicit in fraud? Never! We have enough things going against us as it is, I’m not going to add crimes to the list when he had no idea I was even trying for it.”

“Well then why’d you apply for two Enforcers? Who’s the second Enforcer for that matter,” Anur frowned, “Because if they haven’t been getting Enforcer-duty lessons, I cry foul!”

Kir hesitated, before staring up at the ceiling and saying, “I sent in the second one because I knew they wouldn’t ever approve it and would send some sort of reply to me – so I’d be able to figure out why exactly they were ignoring my reports on blood magic. Also, it made your Enforcer paperwork look entirely legitimate in comparison – my hope was that they’d approve yours, send back the other with a stern letter on misuse of official communications and I’d finally get to the bottom of the whole thing.”

“But instead they approved both of them,” Anur frowned, “So no one reads your messages?”

“Well they have to read them, if they approved them and I’m getting paid for both of you for the probationary year,” Kir sighed, “They’re just… not actually reading them? My best guess is whoever reviewed them saw two Enforcers being requested and then stamped them with approval without ever actually reading them – either because they didn’t feel like doing so or there are standing orders to do whatever is possible to give me no excuse at all to come to Sunhame and complain that my reports aren’t being acted on. So long as there is no response at all, they can claim they are acting on my reports in manners that I am not worthy to know about.”

His tone was distinctly sour towards the end, and Anur shook his head, saying, “Well they’re clearly idiots. And it can’t be fraud then, as they approved paperwork you sent in as a joke – if they were doing their job properly, you wouldn’t be getting paid for two Enforcers.”

“I suppose that could be argued,” Kir agreed with a reluctant smile, “After all, if anyone actually _looked_ at the papers they would never have gone through.”

“Why, who was it?” Anur asked, immediately following up with, “Come on Kir, you have to tell me! Who could be immediately rejected like that?”

“Selenay, Witch-Queen of the North,” Kir replied promptly.

Anur stared at him, mouth agape as he tried to work through what his friend had just told him. “You… you actually wrote ‘Selenay, Witch-Queen of the North’ on Enforcer papers? And they were _approved_?!”

“I wrote Selenay Sendarsi – for Sendar’s daughter in an old tradition – and under former occupation I wrote witch-queen of the north,” Kir replied, looking over at him ruefully, “So you understand why I was so surprised I got stamped approvals for both my Enforcer’s commissions. You agreed to yours and signed, so it’s official. I sent everything in so that you’ll continue as Enforcer. Since she never agreed, the contract is invalid but apparently they didn’t want to wait for the signed contracts to return and just paid me for the full year with two Enforcers. Hopefully your own signed contract and the lack of one for her will straighten things out, they should have gone in by now.”

“So I’m still the only post-Choosing Herald to be on official payroll with Sunhame,” Anur clarified, clearly wanting to keep his title.

Kir rolled his eyes, saying, “Yes, Anur. You’re the only one. She’s not on an official payroll, because her contract was never signed and sent back. But they’re paying me anyway for the probationary year – it’s a standard policy. The idea is that the Enforcer, or any special duty officer, tries their new duties for a year and if they agree, paperwork is sent back to confirm their appointment, if they don’t they are paid for the extra duties they do for that first year.”

“So technically they’re paying _her_ for the probationary year, but as she’s not performing any of the extra duties, you’re just passing that on to the quartermaster,” Anur frowned, “That explains why he offered to requisition spice-cake on town runs.”

“Oh Sunlord – you didn’t – “

“Of course not! My spice cake addiction is not something the unit needs to pay for, I was just confused as to why he even offered!” Anur replied indignantly, Kir inclining his head in apology and they returned to silence for a moment or two.

It was broken by Anur snickering.

“What?” Kir asked reluctantly.

“I’m just imagining her face if we sent her the paperwork offering her a position in the Sunsguard as a Lieutenant-Enforcer!” Anur admitted, “Ah it’s too bad we can’t – that’d make them think about it and they’d probably figure out this whole mess.” A waving gesture indicated ‘this whole mess’ meant the entirety of the 62nd and their conspiracies.

At first, Kir agreed entirely with his estimation that it was too risky. But then the idea lurked in his mind for a bit and he agreed that it _would_ be amusing – and then another idea spawned.

“Actually, I think we could – send it saying that I apologize for rashly using her name to test Sunhame on whether or not they read my responses, but I didn’t actually think it would go through – just to make sure their intelligence agents don’t hear alarming things, I’m informing them of what happened. Then I’ll make sure to mention I declined on her behalf, but you found the idea too amusing to brush aside, so we’re sending it along as both a courtesy and in hopes she finds it equally amusing,” Kir said, sitting up and growing more animated as he outlined his plan. Maybe it was foolish, but – Anur was right. It would be hilarious, and more than that – if they worded things right they’d be _less_ inclined to think that Anur was actually an official Lieutenant-Enforcer of the Sunsguard.

“Make it part of a group gift thing,” Anur suggested, “I was going to be sending Weaponsmaster Alberich a package – because I owe him, and the spices are different here, I’m pretty sure he’d appreciate it – so it would almost blend in with those gifts.”

The remainder of the evening (no one did show up for the Sun Descending service in the end) was spent planning out their Midwinter’s Gifts to smuggle northwards as what they would claim were merely signs of gratitude. But mostly, it seemed amusing. And amusing things, while not rare, and not been common in these past years. As a monarch of a warring country, Witch-Queen Selenay could undoubtedly use the laugh too.


	9. The Northern Cousins

_Naomi, Captain of the Valdemaran Guard_

Naomi sat in her office in the southern Guard’s winter quarters, feet resting on her desk and chair tilted back, a glass of that strong liquor the Herald had sent her in hand. She had just finished the final paperwork for the season, meaning the rest of her time till three days after Midwinter was hers to spend. Freak snow-storm a few weeks ago aside, there wasn’t any road-clearing to do this far south and Ancar was huddled inside his borders for the season, while the bandits that remained were probably curled up in their holes trying to figure out what had gone wrong this year.

A fierce grin grew on her face – when this idea had been first presented to her, she had thought they’d get a few moons out of it before something happened and the whole arrangement ended in treachery and doom. But here they were, more than a full year later, and she could actually count a Captain of the Sunsguard as a trusted colleague. Ulrich had a good head on his shoulders and while she still hadn’t met this Sergeant Greich that served as his de facto second in command, his Lieutenants were decent enough. Little young, but that was to be expected.

Her unit’s morale was high – they hadn’t taken many losses this year and they’d routed quite a few bandit raids and raided some more nests. They’d done their duty, above and beyond, and she’d rewarded with bonus pay out of the recovered wealth they’d been authorized to keep. Paid soldiers were happy soldiers, and happy soldiers were more inclined to keep their mouths shut as to the reason behind their successes.

If she could share this success secret with her colleagues she would, because it had made such a difference in this year alone. But it wasn’t safe. Not for her and hers, and definitely not for those on the other side of the border. Spies for Karse may be few and far between here – kind of hard to convince people to spy on magical demon monsters after all – but they were there. And she didn’t doubt that if even a rumor of cooperation reached that bastard Son of Sun there’d be fires to the south come morning.

At least with that Sunpriest on their side she could be reasonably certain the fires in question would be destroying the people sent after the 62nd and the unit in question would soon cross the border to join Valdemar, but it was not a fate to pursue. Those men had family over there, family and friends and they loved Karse, that was clear enough to see. Maybe not their priesthood – she shook her head at the memory of that Lieutenant talking about assassinating priests, call it a convenient accident if you would, but she knew what it was – but they loved their country. Forcing them to flee it would be cruel indeed, so if she could help keep the secret then she would, as long as she could.

It helped that she had a Herald she could point to as the source of most of the crazy ideas that came out of this arrangement. Why he felt the need to be across the border was beyond her; the disguise for the Companion was clever, but it was still a risk she’d never have taken. Dinesh was willing to shelter him and watch his back, the entire 62nd apparently willing and ready to keep him as one of their own, but she still worried.

The only reason she had agreed was because of his clear conviction that this would, _somehow_ , help them against Ancar in the long run. How long the long run was, she didn’t know, but the way things were going this war wasn’t going to end for a few years yet, so he had some time to work on whatever plan they had going.

And it was a they, the priest would never have agreed to shelter him and she knew Ulrich would never have agreed to put his unit at that sort of risk if there wasn’t a payout they all knew was coming.

Which meant it was going to be something utterly magnificent and she couldn’t _wait_ to see how it would all pan out. But in the meantime, she had a winter season to celebrate, a successful year to drink to and a future year to plot out.

 _Here’s to those boys of yours, Sunlord,_ she toasted the foreign god with her foreign drink, _and here’s to another year’s success._

_Griffon, Herald of Valdemar_

_:Somehow this isn’t quite what I thought he meant when he asked for a favor,:_ Griffon said wryly, packs double-stuffed with a ridiculous amount of objects. It was a good thing most of them were light and Harevis was a Companion or this would never have worked.

 _:Don’t complain – cashing in one of those favors for deliveries on a route we were going to travel anyway is a very good thing,:_ Harevis snorted.

 _:I don’t think this counts,:_ Griffon replied, _:So I think I still owe them. And it’s not like he asked for a specific debt or anything, it’s just gift deliveries! It’s rather nice, actually, I like being the Midwinter gift giver.:_

 _:His family was very nice,:_ Harevis sighed wistfully, hooves chiming as they loped towards Haven. _:They had very comfortable stables.:_

 _:Well they’re used to hosting Aelius, so that makes sense,:_ Griffon replied, _:They seemed surprised to hear from Anur so soon – what was it his mother said, ‘that’s the third letter this year!’?:_

 _:Indeed – and I’m pretty certain most of that letter was written by Father Kir,:_ Harevis whickered a laugh, _:Which is funny, since Anur is the one notorious for making friends with anyone! You’d think he’d be a better correspondent.:_

_:Nah, he hates writing. He likes talking to people too much – when he writes something, he thinks about what they’d say in response and then responds to that and it ends up being some disjointed half-conversation written down. I’ve watched him write letters, it’s pretty bad. Reports are better, for some reason.:_

_:Probably because they’re formalized and not conversational – letters are supposed to be more casual.:_

_:I guess. Any ideas on how to get this stuff to the people in question?:_

_:You can probably just drop them off…:_

_:Harevis! It’s supposed to be a_ surprise _!:_

_:…I don’t remember that part of the request.:_

_:Well no they didn’t request it, but it’ll be fun! Come on, they’re Midwinter Gifts, you’re not supposed to know what you’re getting in advance, it’s a surprise! Weaponsmaster Alberich shouldn’t be too hard – if we time things right that is.:_

_:And how exactly do you propose we get gifts delivered to the Queen as a surprise?:_

_:…Talia? And then tag-team Skif?:_

_:Huh. That might actually work.:_

_Alberich, Herald of Valdemar_

Alberich, formerly of Karse, was not accustomed to receiving Midwinter gifts. When he had first arrived in Valdemar he had no friends or friendly acquaintances for whom gifts would be appropriate – when he had people who would have given gifts or that he would have given gifts to, no Midwinter gifts was a habit. So if he found something that he wanted to gift to a friend, he would get it and give it to them presently, rather than try and make Midwinter some large gift-giving production. It was much less stressful that way.

Needless to say, he was therefore legitimately concerned by the presence of a series of brightly wrapped packages sitting on the table by his favorite chair. He had just returned with Kantor from the Midwinter’s Day service at Haven’s Temple of the Lord of Light and an afternoon tea with Father Gerichen, now a good friend of his. Myste was coming over to dine with him tonight and they were going to entirely avoid the mess that was Court in Midwinter, even in wartime.

Actually, the mess now was even worse, as the Royals were taking the opportunity of the slow season to hold the long-expected and already mostly treated-as-fact wedding between Prince Daren of Rethwallen and Queen Selenay of Valdemar. Despite their lifebonding and his Choosing, it had taken some time for either party to feel comfortable with the idea of matrimony – the last time Selenay had married had been his elder brother, and it had ended badly.

Ironically, one of their bonding moments had been when they discussed how the late and unlamented Karathanalen had tormented them when he was alive. Well, whatever made them happy.

 _:I have been asked to pass on the message that they are in fact gifts, not traps or weapons or poisons or whatever paranoid conspiracy you might believe them to be. That was a word for word message, by the way,:_ Kantor said, clearly amused. _:They know you well, Chosen.:_

 _:Who would send me gifts?:_ Alberich asked incredulously, sitting down and finally seeing the letter that had been hidden by the small pile. He didn’t recognize the hand, though given Kantor’s message, the delivery person, at the least, had been a Herald.

Heating a knife in the candle-flame, he peeled up the wax seal – a thumbprint, also unfamiliar – before unfolding the letter, written in two hands, and starting to read.

_Hello Weaponsmaster!_

_Aelius and I have been spending a fair amount of time if not in Karse, then with Karsites, and have, as a result, found out about the spices and foods of the country, very different from what can be found in Valdemar. It occurred to us that you hadn’t had anything like this in a long time, and given how amazing this spice-cake is, that’s nearly criminal._

_Seeing as Griffon was heading north for the winter, it seemed predestined. Hope you enjoy!_

_Anur_

_Herald Alberich,_

_It seems that in addition to writing letters to his family, I’m writing letters to everyone else as well. As Anur mentioned, he wanted to send you foodstuffs from home – I tried to talk him out of the spice cake as it doesn’t travel particularly well, but he is obsessed with it and would not be dissuaded. We did our best with regards to packaging. There are tea mixes, labeled for their purpose – apparently the headache blend I developed is particularly effective – smoked meats with the usual spices, and some spice packets by themselves and prodka, naturally._

_I hope I did not presume too much when I included a knot-work Sun-in-Glory – I haven’t made as many as usual in the past years but I still average one or two projects a moon – meaning I am swimming in these things. Anur says he is fairly certain you are still a follower of Vkandis Sunlord (something about a window, apparently) but if not, just know that I offer no insult._

_There are additional gifts in Haven that, unfortunately, you may be called upon to explain. In our defense, we found them amusing in addition to being worthwhile intelligence, so sent them on in the hopes of sharing the humor of the situation. If this disrupts your holiday, my apologies._

_Sunlord protect and guide,_

_Kir Dinesh, Firestarter of the First Order_

Alberich blinked at the letter – in mixed Karsite and Valdemaran, giving the entire thing a very odd appearance – before looking at the gifts. Opening them carefully, he was amused to find that the spice-cake in question had been triply wrapped in paper and an oddly sized Sunsguard uniform, and had retained its shape remarkably well.

A quick taste test proved it had retained its flavor even better.

Small bags labeled with tea mixes were neatly lined up along his mantle – headache teas were always welcome, and new blends doubly so. Smoked meat and cask of _prodka_ he set aside to share with Myste when she arrived, while the last package was opened and unfolded to reveal a Sun-in-Glory emblem most certainly similar to the one he remembered Anur wearing around his neck, though large enough it was probably intended as a wall-hanging.

Fascinated by the differing knots and texture of the emblem, made entirely of red cord and rope, he passed a decent amount of time simply examining the craftsmanship, Kantor looking through his eyes and murmuring appreciative exclamations of his own every so often. Claim in the letter aside, he was certain this piece had been made specifically as a gift – maybe not for him in particular, but as a gift and a high quality one at that. There was no way that Dinesh was swimming in works of this size and quality – it seemed utterly impossible.

The peculiar knocking sensation indicating someone wanting to speak via mindspeech interrupted their examination.

 _:Alberich?:_ Selenay’s mindvoice was unmistakable, undertones of amused confusion keeping him from worrying needlessly.

_:Yes, Selenay?:_

_:What exactly is an Enforcer, why would I be approved as one, and is a cask of some sort of liquor and a half-crushed cake really a traditional wedding gift in Karse?:_

What in Vkandis’ name had they _sent_ her?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I don't know where these two chapters came from. Like at all. The Alberich gift-basket was planned, but the Selenay thing? That just sort of... happened.
> 
> And then was too priceless to leave out. Who knows what these two will come up next?


	10. Spreading the Word

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been crossposting on ff.net - and I really suck at separating out chapters with this document, it's just too long now! So I published this chapter under chapter 9 on accident, so thanks to Borys for pointing that out! Here's the chapter 10 - the next few are shorter before we get into longer arcs again, so they should be fairly quick to get polished up to reasonable quality :) Thanks for reading!

Kir stepped into the chapel with a sigh, the entire day had been spent distributing and getting ready to implement the latest orders from Sunhame, interspersed with rounds of sparring with Anur. He was getting better at incorporating his Gift in close quarters combat but there were still some errors – meaning someone who could knock back any flying blades or recover from invisibly deflected strikes was needed for practice.

He had his suspicions as to the accuracy of that claim, he was fairly certain Greich just found their spars entertaining to watch. When the two of them went at it, flying objects and spurts of flame made for a flashy show, he could easily see that, and it also doubled as desensitization training for the men. Hopefully when they saw that Anur had no problems going near his flames, they might recover from their hesitance and he could take a bit more of an active role in the coming plans.

He shook head to clear it – right now he needed to focus on preparing for the Descending Service. Anur was off working with the archers, apparently Heralds had a few tricks that didn’t require Gifts, which left him some time for simple meditation.

And it seemed he wasn’t the only one who needed time and quiet to think – if he wasn’t mistaken, Lieutenant Korisho was sitting in the back, head bowed. If he was still there when Kir had finished the preparations he’d go and speak with him. Though they had only ridden out on the one – technically two – truly _odd_ jobs, he had been invaluable in getting Anur up to speed on being a lieutenant in the Sunsguard and on life in the Sunsguard in general. While the twins were helpful in that respect as well, the fact that Anur and Devek had the same rank, technically speaking, made it a bit easier.

He was also simply a very good officer, and an honest pleasure to work with.

Setting things up for the Descending service was a matter of minutes, so Kir was unsurprised that Korisho had yet to move. Walking towards the back, lighting the candles along the walls on the way, he stopped by the pew the lieutenant had claimed and asked, “What troubles you?”

It was clear that something was troubling him, expression alone gave that away, while white-knuckles around high-quality paper indicated more official reasons for his woe.

“I’ve been promoted,” the Lieutenant said quietly.

“Then I believe congratulations are in order,” Kir smiled, resting his weight on the side of the pew in front of Devek. “To Senior Lieutenant then? You will make a good one, an honor to your unit.”

“Thank you, Father,” he gave a small smile, pride gleaming in his eyes for a moment before it subsided.

“But that is the problem,” Kir guessed, “You are being transferred, as there is no room for promotion within the 62nd.”

Some tension left the lieutenant’s shoulders and he sat back, looking up at Kir with a rueful sort of amusement, “Exactly, sir. I want this promotion, am glad I received it, but I don’t want to leave. Things here – the 62nd is unique sir, you of all people know that, and I just – I don’t want to lose that,” he shrugged helplessly.

Kir hummed thoughtfully, it was a problem he had considered, if in the opposite direction. They were to receive replacements for their losses this year and for the transfers within the ranks, though the only one of those he had dealt with extensively was Lieutenant Korisho. The new arrivals were due in a week’s time, giving them that long to figure out an introduction that wouldn’t result in Lief Gero’s fate being repeated _or_ in their entire unit being condemned for heresy.

“What will you miss the most?” he asked finally, “Is it something that you can build your next unit into? You will have authority, as a Senior Lieutenant – there is no reason you cannot try to bring those qualities you like in the 62nd to your next posting. Well – excepting the Valdemaran lessons, that might be best left for later,” Kir finished wryly.

Devek laughed, as he’d intended, agreeing, “For the best to forget I even speak some Valdemaran for a few years, I’m thinking.”

“More than some, you’re very close to fluency,” Kir assured him, “But aside from our more ‘heretical’ tendencies, is there anything you could safely bring with you?”

“I guess what I’ll miss the most is the feeling of being in the center of things,” Korisho finally admitted, shrugging, “I just – there’s so much _potential_ here, sir. For change for making a _difference_ – it feels like – like everything we do here has the potential to change _everything_ and it’s… it’s a powerful feeling. And the camaraderie – here I feel entirely comfortable bringing my concerns to the Captain, my scouts have been giving blunt assessments to me for near my whole service here – well, and to be frank, not having to look over my shoulder for a priest lurking is nice.”

“You mentioned your former posting had a more… militant priest,” Kir commented, Korisho nodding and saying, “It was awful sir, there was just this – choking _fear_ whenever he walked by. I don’t know if it’s like that elsewhere, not all chaplains are so authoritative, but to go from there to here – I’m just worried I’ll end up in one like that again.”

Kir sighed, it was a definite problem, and one that more than one was facing with the new orders they’d received. But maybe – maybe he could do something about it.

“How common are letters between old unit mates?” Kir asked abruptly, an idea starting to form but still tenuous.

“Ah – fairly, sir. Easy enough to communicate between Sunsguard units,” Devek shrugged.

“Then if you have any troubles, send a letter to Anur,” Kir suggested, “With regards to a particularly militant priest – I would probably have them on my list anyway, so it would be no great burden to come and see if things can be dealt with without leaving it on the unit’s shoulders.”

“As for staying in the center of things,” Kir continued, smiling wryly, “You saw the list of names I need to look into. I need to send letters to old contacts of mine and subtly – if they reach out to me it is nowhere near as suspicious as myself reaching out to them. I can also give you some of the names that come through your next unit’s region, if you are agreeable.”

Judging by the gleam in the Senior Lieutenant’s eyes, that sort of arrangement sounded very agreeable indeed.

“That sounds perfect sir, what sort of information would you be looking for?”

“Well to start with – “

The conversation went until the Sun Descending service began, and continued well into the night – and by the end of the week, he’d had similar conversations with every single one of the transfers. For the most part, he simply reassured them that they were welcome to write to those remaining in the 62nd if they needed aid, and he would do his best to help. Simply having more soldiers with knowledge of Solaris’ calling and Valdemar’s non-demonic nature was valuable enough, he felt no need to push anyone into a similar arrangement as that with Senior Lieutenant Korisho.

Nevertheless, he had a few volunteers and after a more lengthy discussion as to risks and the sorts of things they needed to be especially careful of, there were five soldiers going out into Karse with two or three names apiece and a few unsigned letters to deliver. They would gather more rumors and if possible meet with the priests in question, then pass on their observations through letters to their fellows in the 62nd.

Thankfully, letters between Sunsguard weren’t censored much, and with them aware of the censorship, they would be careful enough to get by. Censorship was taken care of within the unit by one of the officers and talking about the latest priestly encounter, so long as done without disrespect, was nothing suspicious. As the men were scattered to different units across the country, it was highly unlikely anyone would even manage to put together the fact that former members of the 62nd Cavalry were sending assessments of priests back to their old unit, much less that they would then become suspicious of it.

Around ten names off a list more than ten times that length. It did not seem like much – but he could see the way they straightened, gleam entering their eyes and a confidence entering their tone – they had a mission now, a mission that they could _believe_ in, and that was more valuable than any information they might send him.

And if he’d slipped an extra knotwork piece in every transfer’s packs – well, it was simply a more concrete form of the blessing he’d given them before they left.


	11. Hunting

“I don’t see this ending particularly well,” Anur commented, the two captains grimacing before Naomi said, “I got replacements too – and sure, ours we can just tell them what’s going on, but they’re still a little twitchy.”

“From what we’ve been able to gather, none of these are particularly ardent to those pieces of doctrine we’re ignoring, but not wanting to wage war on the White Demons is different entirely from being willing to work with them,” Ulrich agreed, before sighing, “But there’s not much else – we’re going to have to restart from the beginning every time we get replacements.”

“At least until we’re more settled in how we work together, then it might be best to just throw them in the deep end,” Naomi agreed, before looking thoughtful, “Actually – it might be best to start integrating now. There are a few of yours that speak decent Valdemaran by now, right?”

“Yes,” Ulrich replied, raising an eyebrow, “You want to conduct a joint scouting run?”

“I think it’s about time for it,” she agreed, “Won’t be obvious to the new guys, but there will be traces, and it won’t mean losing progress.”

“So long as Anur remains in the uniform of an Enforcer we should be reasonably safe even if there is a full encounter,” Kir finally spoke up, looking up from his latest knot-work project – another Sun-in-Glory. “The Hardornen tavern agreement should hold up on our end, we can simply have those stories told, if they haven’t made the rounds already.”

“Might be best if you stay off the field then,” Naomi said, “To make sure no one gets stupid trying to protect you on your side, or attack you on mine. Not many hardened personal grudges against Karse left these days, but still not something we’ll want to risk this early into the new batch.”

“I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time,” Kir said blandly, “You mentioned that Ancar has started poking at your borders again?”

Anur sighed. He could already see where this one was going.

***===***pagebreak***===***

A week later the two of them were hiding in brush along a ridgeline overlooking a troop of Ancar’s soldiers, settled in for the night. He murmured, “How do you want to deal with this one?”

“These are mixed blood-bound and regulars,” Kir replied lowly, “Just destroying the blood-mages will leave the farmers to be slaughtered by the regulars when they rebel.”

“Can you find the regulars versus blood-bound?”

“Not remotely,” Kir grimaced, “Only way to tell is to kill the blood-mages and see who goes berserk.”

“And the blood-mages?”

“That’s the problem – they’re not here. I think they’re in the nearest town, staying at the inn or something – no sleeping in the dirt for them,” Kir snarled, Anur elbowing him and the priest subsided, “Apologies.”

“They don’t have much to live for anyway,” Anur said after a few moments thinking on the problem, “From what the Prince said, the moment they reversed the blood-mages hold on them, they wanted nothing more than to die – and die hurting Ancar.”

Kir exhaled through his teeth, the low hissing sound all the reply he gave, but no other one was needed. They slunk away from the ridgeline and collected Aelius and Riva from the stand of trees they’d tied them up in. Anur shivered as he eyed the trees – to the eyes they looked fine, but something just felt _off_ and he couldn’t tell if it was because he _knew_ something was wrong with Hardorn or if it was something he could actually detect.

Honestly, he didn’t really want to know the answer to that.

“So the nearest town is – heh – it’s the one where we met,” Anur chuckled, examining his map. “That’s funny.”

“That is rather amusing,” Kir grinned, taking a swig of water. “And good – it’s close and there’s that grove of trees a half a mark’s walk from it. We should be able to walk right up to it, there moon doesn’t rise for another three mark’s at least, and once we get the blood-mages – “

 _:I’ll bring Riva to fetch you both,:_ Aelius supplied, Anur relaying and Kir nodded, as that had clearly been his plan.

“Well then, let’s go find these _witach_ ,” Anur said, swinging up into Aelius’ saddle, Kir leading the way out with Riva, keeping the pace to a quick trot.

“You know,” Kir murmured, gnawing on some travel bread after they’d reached the grove in question. “If we do this – and if the blood-bound retain some sense – they might actually make it. They split the watch evenly so depending on how alert they are waking up, they could get the regulars as they sleep – at least some of them.”

“Now there’s something to hope for,” Anur said with a grim smile, folding up his red sash and leaving it in Aelius’ saddlebags. Kir had already removed his red robe, color still remarkably vivid despite the wear and tear of the years, and folded it up into Riva’s packs.

Wearing the dark colors of the Sunsguard’s basic uniform, with the dim light of the stars they bore a passing resemblance to Ancar’s army’s uniform. It wouldn’t hold up to close inspection, but it was doubtful anyone would be conducting close inspections of Ancar’s officers – not when they had such wretched reputations.

True to their estimate, it was a half a mark before they neared town, fields barren but not because of a harvest gleaning all their worth – no, this was a barrenness caused by no planting the previous spring. Anur shivered, remembering Kir’s warning that Ancar would care nothing for his people starving, so long as there were bodies for his armies and blood for his appetites. It was one thing to hear it, to even believe it – and an entirely different matter to see the casual signs of such neglect.

They neared the inn – the formerly clean and well-maintained, though basic, structure also showing signs of neglect. The stables’ roof was poorly patched, the inn itself missing shutters on some windows and with scorch marks on its sides. There wasn’t a soul wandering around now, not even the employees venturing out to take advantage of a few hours rest or companionship under the stars as they might have in more peaceful times.

Anur looked to Kir, whose eyes had the distant look he had come to recognize as mage-sight, rather than mindspeech. Mere moments later, Kir’s eyes focused and he held up three fingers, indicating with gestures that the three blood-mages were in separate rooms along the top floor. Making this complicated.

“Can you get them at once?” he asked softly, Kir shaking his head, murmuring in reply, “No, their shielding – it prevents distant lighting. If I were willing to burn down the whole inn, it would catch them but there are innocents in there.”

“So one by one?” Anur asked, Kir nodding and Anur returned the gesture, “Your lead.”

The kitchen door opened silently, what looked like a pile of rags shifted as the cold draft swirled in but neither of the kitchen-boys woke – or at the least, they had the sense to pretend to sleep. Walking near silently – maybe Kir had taken lessons from a thief himself, at this point he wouldn’t be surprised by the lengths Kir went to fulfill his missions and duties – they made their way through the dining area, rough tables shoved back against the walls for the night. At the stairs Kir paused, but soon started up them, careful to step on the edges near the walls, Anur following behind exactly.

In the hall dividing the inn’s rooms, Kir waved Anur to the furthest door on the right, while he took the door across. With short gestures, he indicated that two mages were in the room Kir had claimed, while one was in Anur’s – and that he was to kill that mage immediately so that there was no alert between the three.

A short nod was all the confirmation he needed to offer, Kir’s signal a curt gesture and they both slid through their respective doors. No physical warding on his, given Kir’s orders – no alarms on the door either, since the mage was still snoring. The stench of blood was nearly unbearable – gods where did it _come_ from - ?

A knife across the throat – he _had_ slaughtered cows and pigs before – and the scent only grew. Anur covered his nose and mouth with his sleeve, gagging as he looked around, choking down vomit as he finally saw the broken corpse of a young girl in the corner.

A hand on his shoulder nearly gave Kir a knife in the gut, the priest giving him a warning look before glancing over at the girl and grimacing. He squeezed his shoulder before leaning in and murmuring, “Burnt the others to ash, the ashes are wrapped up in their sheets. Going to do the same to this one and we’ll take the ashes with us to scatter. Vanishing without a trace will be better for the people here than leaving them suspects in their executions.”

“Got it,” Anur replied, sheathing his knife and returning to the hall, bundle of sheets on the floor. He picked it up, not surprised by the residual warmth, and headed down the stairs – the glow from the other room told him that Kir would be following close behind.

 _:Ready.:_ he mindspoke shortly, only daring to risk the one word. He didn’t know if Ancar had some way of detecting Gifts within his borders and didn’t want any further clues to be offered if they did. It wasn’t like Aelius needed any further cues anyway.

Kir met up with him outside in the stable-yard with his own bundle of ash-filled sheets. He led the way again, out into the barren fields, where he dropped his own burden and Anur gladly followed his example, the sheets quickly smoldering to their own ashes, the remains of the blood-mages scattering across the ground in the low breeze.

“Well,” Anur said quietly, swinging up into the freshly arrived Aelius’ saddle. “Three down.”

“An army to go,” Kir replied grimly, offering him a small smile nonetheless.

Now to get out of Hardorn and back to the 62nd. It would be interesting to see how the first raid with the new arrivals went.


	12. Circling 'round the Back

Naomi looked up from the Karsite reports she was reviewing in the middle of the Captains’ meeting at the local post and said blandly, “Well we do have that Sunpriest friend of Herald Anur’s. He may be able to help.”

After their first joint operation _without_ the Herald and priest looking over their shoulders, things had, ironically, gone even smoother. Apparently both sides seeing that the instigators of the entire arrangement weren’t _necessary_ for things to work out made them more inclined to trust each other. There were still some twitches for weapons and uneasy glances, but nothing out of the ordinary so far as she was concerned.

Which meant she wasn’t too worried about this spy insertion ruining what they had going. He was going to be spying on Ancar anyway, and information not regarding Ancar and the war with him was going to be a far second to anything he managed to get out of that cursed country.

There would also be delays and limitations forced by short messages and insecure means of communication. All in all, she thought the risk to their international bandit hunting was minimal, especially in comparison with the importance of getting this spy safely and securely into Hardorn.

Of course, Shallan of the Skybolts had no idea that she had put that much thought into the offer; she frowned and exchanged a glance with the spy they were scheming to deliver. “How much do you trust this connection?” she finally asked, looking over at Naomi now.

“With a lot,” Naomi replied bluntly, “We’ve been coordinating joint attacks for over a year now, haven’t had any trouble besides the occasional twitch of the newbies, and that’s just as much our side as theirs.”

She basked in the incredulous stares of the other border Captains, smirking, “I told you I was having fun,” she reminded them, not saying anything more in case – against all odds – someone in this group was reporting to others not so supportive of her means of bandit control. The higher ups wanted more information, they’d have to come to _her_ to get it.

“Well Ragges? Up to you, but I think entering from Karse will give you a leg up on getting in safely,” Shallan said, “The caravans are getting a lot of scrutiny coming in from Valdemar, you can meet up with them pretty quickly once you enter Hardorn, it’s just a matter of getting past that border zone.”

“If it works, it works,” the Skybolt shrugged, looking distinctly odd with half his face pale and half his face done up in dye – he’d spent the meeting doing his own make-work, his disguise. “Be interesting to meet this Sunpriest anyway.”

Naomi listened with half an ear to the rest of the meeting – she was very good at that, listening and remembering while still doing something else. It was a very, very useful talent. When the meeting concluded, she was done with her reports and the Skybolt was entirely transformed into a swarthy skinned peddler, down on his luck. Had to be that last, no one else would risk Hardorn at this point.

“So you’re planning on staying in a while,” she said as they rode out of the gates, the Skybolt looking over at her before nodding, “Like Lieutenant Shallan said, couple of years is the goal. We have long-term agents over there, but they need a method of communication and some of the last ones will be up for extraction in a year. I’m joining up now to get their techniques down and alter them as needed. Hoping for three years.”

“Well good luck,” Naomi said sincerely, “You’ll need it.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

“We’re heading east to Vieldorf, there’s an investigation I’ll be conducting there – how far from the Valdemaran border do you want to be before crossing?” Kir asked the spy, the fake peddler shrugging and saying, “I need to enter along a road for my cover to make sense – are there any that are maintained?”

“None where Karsites are allowed to enter Hardorn any longer, it would raise more questions than not if you came that route, especially without a caravan,” Kir replied, frowning as he examined a map. They were in the chapel, apparently that had become the headquarters for these schemes by default, and Anur was collecting the twins for their latest run with last minute modifications. “What route is this caravan you’re meeting following?”

“Southern trade road to enter, then they’re making a southwards loop – I was thinking of meeting them in Helecia,” the spy, Ragges of the Skybolts, pointed out the town in question. It was a good spot, Kir mused, close enough to both that with his walking and the caravan stopping in every town, they’d probably reach it at the same time.

He said as much aloud, and Ragges nodded, “But can you get me across the border close to there?”

“Easily enough,” Kir assured him, “He does not have every square inch of our border monitored like he does Valdemar – and a distraction would be more than enough to get you past somewhere else.”

“It can’t be an obvious distraction,” Ragges cautioned, needlessly, but it was his neck on the line so Kir didn’t bother to become offended.

“Of course not,” Kir sniffed, “It’s an irregular thing, but I do chase Hardornen soldiers back across the border every so often to hunt their mages. Haven’t done it for a moon or so, but it would be simple enough to simply resume the pattern. If I keep it up after you have gone through, it will just look like I took a break before continuing, rather than being an unusual event.”

The man raised an eyebrow at the use of the word hunt, but didn’t make any comment. Just as well, Anur walked in at that moment with a cheerful, “Everything’s worked out on our end – you’ll ride double with me, Ragges, twins will keep my packs between them until we drop you off. Any plan for the actual drop?”

“Yes, I think so,” Kir replied, Anur dropping down onto the pew next to him, “Here – we can drop you off at the border, just after the Son’s Springs become the border, straight shot north will take you in to Helecia. Looks… four days ride, so that would be eight or nine walking? Will that work for you?”

“How many days to that drop-off point?” Ragges asked, leaning forward with a furrowed brow as he stared at the map.

“I think… one. Herald, you’ll take him there while the twins and I stay east, there was an incursion here that had blood-magic behind it a few weeks ago, it will be close enough to justify a burn-and-run,” Kir said, indicating another point on their map, “Then we’ll drop back into Karse and head in, cross the river and we can meet at this traveler’s chapel. We’ll take three days, so you can go slower on the way back in. Did I judge distances right?”

“Aelius and I can do that,” Anur frowned, “Not sure how much I like the idea of you going into Hardorn without me, but needs must. Twins have training in covering for you at least.”

Kir rolled his eyes, the concern was touching, but he wasn’t going to go off and get himself killed the moment Anur left, he’d handled himself perfectly well for decades and that was without any form of backing beyond his own skill and brains. Now he had a unit watching his back, twins who took the joking suggestion of bodyguard duty a little too seriously at times and an overprotective Herald. It was a marvel he even managed to _get_ into danger at this point.

“Sounds ideal,” Ragges finally gave a small smile, “Thank you for arranging this, Sunpriest, Herald.”

“Of course,” Kir murmured, waving off the thanks, Anur demurring similarly. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pack for tomorrow. Anur, think there’s a cot we can dig up somewhere?”

“He can just take the one that we’ve got set up,” Anur shrugged, “Not like it’s been used much. Come on Ragges, let’s get you set up and then some supplies – how much food are you carrying?”

Kir started laughing as he was packing, glad Anur and Ragges were out finding travel-bread at the moment. He had finally remembered what about the whole incident was striking his memory.

His family had always had the fastest ships, and with that speed came rumors of smuggling. So here he was, two decades removed from ever seeing them, smuggling people across borders as part of his day-to-day.

It was said the Sunlord had a sense of irony.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I’m proud of myself here – originally it was going to be some random OC spy, but then I reread Winds of Fury and found Ragges on page 283! Yeah canon incorporation! Anyway, back to some Karse action next time - hope you enjoyed!


	13. Cat of Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this has been on the file since... March? A long time - and i was going to wait a few days so it was a more natural 'oh look I'm actively writing as we go here' but i just couldn't do it. So, here you are, months later - and shout out to one OwlFlight, you'll get why :)

_:Chosen, we have a problem,:_ Aelius said. His comment was most unwelcome, as they had finally finished a day’s ride from their last pseudo-assignment, which had followed one not-at- _all_ assignment, in the company of some black-robe summoners heading in the same direction. Unfortunately, it seemed that the north was getting ‘reinforced’ by black-robes, yet again. Which meant they would be spending sleepless nights hunting down the Furies they’d dragged out in the near future, blast it all.

 _:What?:_ he asked shortly, brushing his coat carefully to not dislodge the patches of woven hair disguising the Companion. They were staying in a simple inn for the night, and there was no obviously applicable reason for them to separate before they reached their destination. Kir, having greater authority in the priesthood hierarchy only just, was unwilling to put his foot down on separating, particularly as he wanted to ensure no Furies were unleashed outside their area of influence.

_:Children hiding in the pilgrimage chapel this lot says they want to stop at. A group of three – two children, one Gifted, and their elder cousin. They’re running north.:_

_:And hiding in a chapel?!:_

_:No one uses the things Chosen, and they believe, just not in the priesthood.:_

_:Great,:_ Anur thought sarcastically, careful to keep his face blandly uninterested, but not blank. How were they going to get out of this one?

***===***pagebreak***===***

“So how are we going to get those three out of there for the day?” Galen asked, the four of them standing around a fire in the stableyard that evening, no one within earshot.  There were no other guests at the inn besides the group heading north, and the Black-robe and his escort had retired early, giving Anur the chance to tell them of the new complication. “We can’t go on ahead in daylight, it wouldn’t make any sense, and we can’t risk this lot being the sort that’ll accept an on-the-spot story. And just walking up would probably end…badly.”

“Can’t risk it either,” Kir said grimly, this at least the fourth time they’d gone through the same circular reasoning, no new ideas coming to them despite the hopeful repetition. “If even one gets caught and they finger us as sending them fleeing, all our motions will get scrutinized and this whole enterprise might get set alight.”

Anur finally tilted his head to the side, saying thoughtfully, “What we need – is someone they automatically trust as a higher authority.”

“Your point?” Balin asked dryly.

“What sort of people would they automatically trust?” Anur asked, and at their blank looks, he sighed and elaborated, “Look, a Valdemaran child, if a Companion came up to them and made even a vague gesture to follow, they would, trusting that the Companion was going to lead them to safety. Is there something like that in Karse? Because I’m assuming a Companion wouldn’t work.”

“They’d be more likely to run screaming in the opposite direction,” Galen agreed, before suddenly looking like he was actually considering the possibilities.

“We don’t need them screaming and running away in a panic, nor do we need the scrutiny a random witch-horse will bring if they get caught in their panic,” Kir reminded him, “So no, that plan won’t work. Unless _all_ else fails.”

“Well then what _would_ work? Who are the heroes in your childhood stories?” Anur prompted.

The three Karsites stared at each other, blankly trying to recall who exactly had acted as the _reassuring_ figure in their childhood stories.

“Well… the priests, were usually the tales’ heroes,” Galen said reluctantly, Kir the one to snort at the idea of these children trusting him to keep them safe from Fires.

“Or, well,” Balin smiled sheepishly, “Firecats.”

“Hey we can do that!” “The last Firecat was recorde- wait, what?”

Anur looked surprised at the other three’s shock, before waving at Kir, “He can do that!”

“You have a Firecat?” Galen asked Kir, staring at him in awe. Kir shook his head violently, “No! No! I’ve never seen a Firecat, much less had one call on me. What are you talking about?”

“Well no you don’t have one, but you can _make_ one!” Anur smiled happily, dimming to confusion at their blank looks, “Oh come on! You can make fire _birds_ and not a _cat?_ ”

“What? No, Anur,” Kir pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, continuing, “A Firecat is not literally a _cat_ made of _fire_.”

Silence fell, the twins raising an eyebrow in unison.

Anur looked blank, then thoughtful, admitting, “Well those stories make a lot more sense now.”

“Wait, you seriously thought that a Firecat was a cat _made of fire_?”

“Well there are weirder things in that Writ of yours!” Anur insisted, Kir hastily interrupting before they devolved into a loud argument that would ruin their game worse than his status as a Firestarter not being as feared as usual by the Sunsguard accompanying him.

“Even if it _were_ a cat made of fire, I would not make some _false Firecat_ ,” Kir said, “That would certainly fall under blasphemy.”

“But it’s _not_ a Firecat, it’s a cat made of fire. I still think we should try it,” Anur crossed his arms mulishly, “I mean really, how many actual _pictures_ are there of these cats? They might make the same leap of logic.”

“Not many, not out here in the rural areas,” Balin admitted, Kir shaking his head as he said, “No. I will not _imply_ that a Firecat is there, making something that I know full well they will _think_ is a Firecat. That is putting actions at the feet of Vkandis Sunlord.”

Anur made a face, opening his mouth to say something before hesitating and looking at the brothers, obviously uncertain about bringing this up before fording on, “You’ve done it before, for worse reasons.”

Kir stiffened at the very clear implications of that, both twins also going rigid and wide-eyed, Galen immediately saying, “We’ll go check on the horses, shall we?” and dragging his brother away.

“I’m sorry Kir, but it had to be said,” Anur continued lowly, “If there were any other way, _any_ other _feasible_ way, then we’d have already come up with it. There’s nothing, we have to get those kids _out_ of the chapel and hiding, _without_ letting anyone know we interfered. And we can’t _not do_ anything. We _can’t_. Please Kir.”

“That’s how it started,” Kir murmured, arms crossed and staring into the flames, “That’s how it _always_ starts – it won’t hurt, just one more. Just a bit further. How am I supposed to – how am I supposed to _stop_? Where is the line drawn? I’m a _traitor_ Anur. In the eyes of Sunhame, I am a _heretic_. How can I just pick and choose which lines to cross, which rules to follow?”

“You choose the ones that are right,” Anur said solidly, “You choose the ones you can live with later. Kir, I can’t – I can’t answer questions about religion, about faith. I don’t have a particular creed I follow. All I can say is that I _know_ you, and if this happens, if these kids get caught – I don’t know if you’ll come back from that. I don’t know how _we’ll_ come back from that. Not when we both know that this _isn’t_ an interminable war into the future anymore. When there’s an end in sight and the ‘it would have happened eventually’ excuse no longer works.”

They stood in silence, Kir staring at the flames blankly, Anur watching his friend worriedly.

“I need to pray,” Kir said finally, turning on his heel and walking away towards the main road, presumably heading for the cathedral. Anur suppressed a sigh, and turned towards the flames again, wishing there was _something_ he could do to help, but knowing that this was a decision Kir needed to make alone.

Even if he did somehow come up with another idea on how to do this, it was a decision Kir would have to make again sometime, so it might be best to get it over with, as it were. But _Sunlord_ what he wouldn’t have given so the crisis hadn’t come with the betrayed hurt in Kir’s eyes when he’d thrown his past burnings in his face.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir slipped into a side-door of the cathedral, remaining in the shadowed edges of the dark room, only light the everburning flame on the altar. Kneeling in the back, he bowed his head and couldn’t think of words, to express what he was trying to decide. He couldn’t think of _anything_ that would let him actually _ask_ for guidance in this.

He was also afraid.

He had lived for so long, for _so long_ thinking his entire _life_ was going to be about quietly questioning the mandates of Sunhame and lessening their impact where he could. Years upon years of helpless resignation had suddenly turned into becoming some sort of _revolutionary_ when all he wanted to do was quietly minister to and protect his unit.

But he knew better than to ask ‘why me,’ the answer to that was in the Writ, clearly spelled out in some places, heavily implied in others. It was he, because he was in a position to do so. It was he, who had to do these things, to make these decisions, because his own decisions, his own _free will_ had led him to these crises points. He was given these trials _because he could complete them_.

He just wished the trials would – no. No he couldn’t do that. He couldn’t wish for someone else to endure these in his place, not when he wouldn’t know how they would decide, not when he didn’t know if the other person to take this burden would break from it.

So. He had to decide. Had to take yet another step, and compared to his earlier steps, it was nothing, like Anur said. It was _miniscule_ , in comparison to pulling Anur from the flames. To going across the border to trade information and supplies. To sitting in the presence of the Witch-Queen of Valdemar and calmly discussing mage classification. Hells, it was nothing in comparison to escorting a _foreign army_ across the land of his people and actively _aiding_ them.

But it was the first time he had _time_ to think about it, really. That there was the real possibility of just – walking away.

Could he do it? Could he take that extra step – not even that, not even a step, a slip, a shuffle – to the other side?

 _“You’re the bravest person I know,”_ Anur’s voice echoed back from the past, that night over a year ago now would seemingly always be with him. Always there, just like Leif Gero, a boy he’d murdered.

He was pathetic. He killed that boy without a _thought_ , with barely a _moment_ spent on considering other options and here he was, dithering about _saving_ someone in a manner which could be argued to be blasphemous. He’d violated the _sanctuary_. He’d killed someone in front of the _altar_ , and he couldn’t craft a cat made of fire to guide innocent children to safety?

How he wished there was someone he could _talk_ to, about Faith, about crises of Faith, about murdering for your God. Anur’s friendship, his brotherhood, was an anchor. Something about the Herald was simply _solid_ , in a way he wasn’t. In a way he couldn’t bring himself to be. But he truly didn’t _understand_ this. He couldn’t comprehend why this was such a hard decision for him to make.

 _Kir_ could barely understand why this was such a hard decision to make.

Taking a steadying breath and looking up at the time-keeping candle, he was surprised to find marks had passed and it was past midnight. He was running out of time. He needed to make a decision.

Staring at the flames a moment longer, he bowed his head again, silently standing. He didn’t know what he had thought would happen, if he came here. Cathedrals, holy places, they were places to think, certainly. But as much as he might wish for one of those quiet whispers, clear statements, bold declarations of the stories, he knew they would not happen.

That was not what faith _was_. It was in believing, in following those beliefs, without grand signs or visions. Without something concrete to point to, to say, ‘I know it is true because’. Decisions had to be made, and they had to be _difficult_ to make, or what was the point of agency? Of free will?

So. It was reduced to just what Anur had said, to just what he had always done.

What course of action could he live with?

Before this friendship with a Herald, before saving a child from the flames, he would have probably captured the children and ensured they died quickly and with no torture and contented himself with that. But it wasn’t _enough_ anymore. It probably hadn’t _ever_ been enough. Not with the screams, choked off and silent though they might have been, echoing in his mind.

It seemed he would be crafting himself a Firecat.

***===***pagebreak***===***

 _:Anur! Wake up and get out here! Kir needs to see you!:_ Aelius’ voice woke Anur immediately from a rather uneasy sleep. The four of them had all been crammed into one room, Kir’s passive acceptance of what was clearly a slap in the face compared to the other, _lower_ status priest still something that made Anur grind his teeth in frustration, but Kir had yet to return. And apparently he wasn’t going to return just yet if he was pestering Aelius into waking him up.

Quietly, he stood and dressed, pulling on his boots and armor, weapons coming too (because hey, the _lothga_ had died when he stabbed it). No one was awake as he slipped out into the stableyard, finding Kir standing in front of Aelius’ stall, looking exhausted in the faint light. He felt another stabbing pang for pushing his friend like this, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, saying quietly, “I’m sorry, Kir. Look – I was thinking, we might be able to swing a run-away-in-terror plan, especially – “

“Enough,” Kir interrupted, holding up a hand to keep him from continuing, “Herald – Anur, enough. You were right.”

“I didn’t _want_ to be right,” Anur said quietly.

“Well you were. And screaming in terror is never a good plan,” Kir said, dry humor appearing momentarily before he went solemn again, “I’m going now.”

“What – now? To the chapel?”

“We need them out of there soon, and the sooner the better, so we can ensure traces are gone,” Kir replied, “And besides, a cat made of fire will be a lot more dramatic in the dark. I also don’t particularly want to give myself a chance to argue myself out of it.”

“Right then. We’ll take Aelius,” Anur said. “And a mouse-catcher.”

“We?” Kir blinked, “I had thought – “

“Kir, really?” Anur rolled his eyes, opening the stall door for Aelius who stepped out quietly and grabbing one of the barn cats sleeping in the next stall, the cat meowing sleepily before curling closer to Anur’s warmth, “We’ve gone over this. You do something crazily risky, and I’ll be right there beside you. Like you said, right? Anyone gets set on fire, we burn together.”

Kir grabbed his arm, glaring as he said lowly, “ _Not_ what I meant.”

“But it _is_ what I meant. I’m not going to ask you to do something, to shove you towards some course of action, if I’m not standing there with you. Besides, Aelius doesn’t need to be saddled or anything and can find the chapel in the dark. So let’s go.”

He swung up, offering Kir his free hand to jump up behind him, and they left quickly, none of them wanting to risk a further delay or being spotted. At this late hour, if someone _did_ see them, it wasn’t going to be one of the other officials and the villagers would doubtfully want to draw more attention to themselves by reporting a Firestarter leaving in the middle of the night on some apparently urgent mission with a Sunsguard Enforcer and a cat.

And if they did, Kir could probably easily argue that they were hallucinating.

“Why the cat?” Kir asked finally, as they left the road to cut some time of their journey.

“I can’t make cat noises,” Anur shrugged, “And you’ll be focusing on making a cat of fire, so I figure if we wake this one up, it’ll make some noise and draw their attention in case they’re all asleep.”

“…I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Kir muttered, the chapel within sight and Aelius halted, the two of them sliding off his back and creeping closer.

“I can’t believe we haven’t though this through better,” Anur muttered in reply, “Where are the kids going again?”

“As long as they get out of there, it doesn’t particularly matter, it’s not like we’re performing an active search grid,” Kir said, “Are they in the sacristy area?”

“Yes,” Anur whispered, and they crept around to be under the window to the sacristy, equipped with cots and basic supplies as all these pilgrimage chapels were. “Asleep?” Kir mouthed, and Anur nodded, Aelius having retreated back towards the road so he was out of sight.

Carefully peering through the window, Kir spotted low-burning embers and crooked his fingers, urging them into true flame and then carefully crafting a roughly-shaped cat. He altered the temperature of the flame in specific areas to create the illusion of shading and a Firecat’s coloring, sweat gathering on his brow as he gave two blue-white spots for eyes. He crouched back down so he wasn’t visible, and Anur carefully Fetched the window latch and let it swing open slightly, before literally _shaking_ the cat in his arms, prompting a furious yowl which he hastily silenced by stuffing his sleeve in the angry cat’s mouth, wincing as claws dug into his arm.

But it served its purpose, the gasp from inside indicating one of them had woken up. “A _Firecat_?” a young woman’s voice whispered, Kir’s eyes clenched shut as he held the image of his construct in his mind, inclining its head so it appeared to nod in answer to her question.

“Sonya, Halun, wake up!” she whispered, joy in her voice, the two children sleepily mumbling before apparently catching sight of the cat and gasping in unison.

He then painstakingly had the cat walk to the door to the main chapel and turn to stare at the three children, who were all on the right side of the room sharing the one cot. “We need to leave?” the same voice guessed, “Someone is coming?”

Another nod. He certainly hoped she didn’t ask anything more complicated, or much more in general for that matter, this was getting very difficult to maintain.

“Thank you, Honored Firecat,” there was a hesitation before, sounding much younger and more uncertain, she asked, “Will we be safe, in Valdemar? It’s not – it’s really not… they’re not demons?”

Well how the hell was he supposed to answer that as a yes or no question? Anur apparently understood his hesitation and shook their poor decoy cat again, producing an angry hiss-yowl combination that Kir couldn’t imagine would be useful. The three just giggled though, to his surprise, and the elder girl asked, “We will be safe, in Valdemar?”

Ah, she apparently thought he was expressing frustration in her complex question. Kir hastily had the cat nod, before pawing at the door.

“Right, we will go. Thank you again, Sir Cat,” she said, the younger children echoing the thanks and Kir let the cat disperse into flames with a dramatic flare up before vanishing, the two of them listening as they packed up some supplies before heading out the front, whispering in awe that they had seen a _Firecat_.

“Aelius will make sure they get out of range before coming to get us,” Anur said lowly, Kir collapsing on the ground, feeling the start of a reaction headache growing behind his eyes. His birds and other shapes were complex and moved a lot more, but he could see them, for one thing, and for another they weren’t a constant maintenance of different temperatures in restricted areas. Those _eyes_ had probably been what did him in.

Anur settled next to him, murmuring platitudes to the disgruntled tortoise-shell cat as he stroked it gently.

“Good idea on the cat,” Kir said after a few moments.

“I didn’t think that last one would work,” Anur smiled over at him, before hesitantly asking, “Could you – show me? The Firecat sometime? If that wouldn’t be too much.”

Kir thought for a moment, before smiling, “No, I don’t think it would be. In fact – I don’t think this is the last appearance of our decoy Cat of Fire, so I’d best get in practice.”

Anur gave him a sidelong look, the two of them meeting eyes for a moment before dissolving into muffled laughter. There might have been some hysteria, maybe even some suppressed sobs hidden in laughter-shaken shoulders, but the only one to witness it was the cat, and he wouldn’t be telling anyone.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“Good riddance,” Balin muttered the next afternoon, the four of them riding out from the pilgrimage chapel, Galen having spun a decent story about their short-handed unit (true) struggling to hold out (true) desperately needing their return (they wouldn’t _object_ exactly) to get them excused without Kir drawing attention to himself and his theoretical rank within the priesthood.

“Oh we’ll be seeing them in a couple days,” Kir sighed, rubbing his temples tiredly, “At least he’s the sort to strictly summon Furies in the designated regions.”

He had been hit with a throbbing headache thanks to their Cat of Fire adventures in the night, prompting the twins to get the other priest to brush off their escort offers. Anur had been plying him with headache tea and running interference as best he could while they dealt with it, but it had still been hours before they were able to escape and Kir could freely express pain.

Their worries over Kir’s state, the future influx of Furies they would need to deal with soon and their now necessary search for the kids so they could be escorted across the border were interrupted by a hissing yowl that Kir recognized. Turning in the saddle, he stared at Anur incredulously, who had a sheepish expression on his face as he pulled a _very_ displeased tortoise-shell cat out of his saddlebags.

“Well you said the Cat of Fire might make another appearance, and what’s a Firecat decoy without sound effects? I think we should call him Lavan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now for the other note: Lavan is not a Firecat in disguise. Just wanted that established now. Hope you enjoyed!


	14. Hard Truths

“That cat hates you,” Kir said dryly, Anur actually pouting at him while Lavan hissed furiously.

It was only three days since they’d _adopted_ the cat, and already Anur had gained an impressive number of cuts all over his hands. Kir would probably have to put his foot down and get his friend to leave the cat in the barn with the rest of the unit’s feral mousers, because even with all those injuries Anur insisted on carrying it in his arms almost constantly.

Heralds, mad, the lot of them.

They’d cut across in front of the black-robes and Aelius had made it a matter of marks to locate and approach the children – well, Balin and Galen approached the children, with a brief appearance of the Cat of Fire to reassure the three that the twins weren’t going to execute them. Initially they had thought to bring them back in to their group and all four of them would take them to the border, but Kir didn’t think he could manage another appearance of the Cat of Fire and did _not_ want to deal with hysterical children.

Bad memories.

So instead the twins took the three kids and went ahead of them – it placed Kir and Anur between the summoners and them, so any Furies would have to go through them first. The twins assured them that they could get the children across the border safely without much trouble, which Kir had decided to very pointedly _not_ ask about, so the plan was for Kir and Anur to follow all the way to the border and then wait for the twins. Once they returned, they’d head back to the 62nd and hopefully have a day or two for this headache to go away before Furies came out in force and they got to run all over the dead zone dealing with those wretches.

Oh, and at some point he needed to actually observe the summoners performing their duties, so he could determine if the priests were doing this out of duty or joy. The former, he could understand and sympathize with.

The latter, he would have to do something about.

Unless they genuinely _believed_ that the Furies only pursued heretics and practitioners of true evil, in which case they might take joy in it but not do so out of any maliciousness.

Exercising judgment was _hard._

“I could use the truth spell – if you really weren’t sure about them,” Anur offered, and Kir realized he’d said that last aloud.

“That is the one involving _vrondi,_ yes?” he asked, admittedly curious about this one bit of ‘true magic’ his friend was familiar with, “The cantrip?”

“Yes, two stages – the second stage would be the most useful, I think. More subtle to observers.”

“What are the two stages again?” Kir winced as light reflecting off the nearby waters of the Sons Springs flashed into his eyes. He’d have to work on temperature based color shading more it seemed – he hadn’t had this sort of reaction headache from detail work in some time.

“The first one is where the target glows blue – they can’t see it, everyone else can. The glow goes away if they lie,” Anur said, Lavan finally escaping his hold and crawling over to curl up on his saddlebags sullenly, the Herald at last leaving the poor cat be, “The second stage doesn’t have any visible indicators, they just can’t speak a lie.”

“Does it force them to actually talk? Or can they just sit their silently?”

“Well – in Valdemar, refusing to speak under the truth spell is taken as a declaration of guilt, most times,” Anur shrugged, “We can word the questions differently, but for the most part, people talk willingly.”

“If this is going to work, they can’t necessarily be aware that they’re under some form of Tell Me True spell,” Kir said dryly, “So sitting there silently might be a problem.”

“So long as it was done subtly enough and it was a natural conversation, they should just talk – the truth just sort of comes out – it takes conscious effort to even try and lie under it, which requires them to be aware they’re under it in the first place,” Anur pointed out.

“Hmm. When we get back to the 62nd we’ll have to experiment with it – I don’t want messing with any of that right now with how sore my head is,” Kir grimaced, rubbing at his temples wearily, “At least these three black-robes are on the list – the primary is the most dangerous, naturally, but all three are on the list.”

“There you go! Think positive! We might be able to knock three _more_ names off the list, kill some Furies, save a bunch of kids, smuggle a spy into Hardorn, record that red-robe in Vieldorf was a decent person _and_ get an awesome cat!” Anur laughed at Kir’s sour look, Aelius’ whicker sounding suspiciously like a chuckle.

There must be something in Valdemar’s water that made them all just a touch mad. Mental note – don’t drink the water.

***===***pagebreak***===***

All of them were relieved beyond measure when they got back to the 62nd – the summoners worked fast. Kir had expected a few more days before that hair-raising chittering started echoing in the hills, but he had heard the first hints of Furies just last night and no one had objected to riding straight through – at least this headache was nearly gone. By tomorrow night he should be able to go hunting.

“No venturing outside the walls near night,” Kir informed the men near the gate – he’d tell Captain Ulrich of course, but the faster the word went out the better, “Summoners followed us.”

Quite a few paled and started murmuring prayers. He didn’t blame them.

“We’ll take care of the horses sir – and the cat,” Balin offered, wincing at the indignant snarl that came again when Anur reached for the tortoise-shell.

Kir snickered at Anur’s expression – he couldn’t help it. The Herald looked like someone had stolen the last piece of spice cake right from under his nose!

Dismounting, he didn’t hand his reins over, saying, “We’ll tend to our own horses, thank you. Though it might be best if one of you took the cat.”

“I’ll get through to him eventually!” Anur grumbled, glowering as the Balin took the cat without any injuries, the cat staring at him with a decidedly smug expression.

Given, cats always came across as rather smug and superior, but it was still entertaining that Anur apparently took it as a personal challenge to his friendliness. There would be quite a few scars in the Herald’s future if he continued this project.

Judging by the grumbling that lasted the entire time they were tending to their mounts, Anur didn’t much care about that. He was going to befriend this cat come hell or high water.

And the cat, being a cat, would hate him eternally just to be contrary.

“Let’s test this truth spell, shall we?” Kir suggested, hoping to distract him from the cat-friendship campaign.

“Now? Um – okay!” Anur looked up, startled, but agreeing. Kir had intended to wait a day or so, but with the hunt for Furies starting tomorrow, the hunt for the summoners necessarily following, there wasn’t any time to waste. He needed to know how this truth spell Anur could perform worked – if summoners could just dodge the question, it would be useless. If Anur had only practiced it on people aware of and subconsciously believing in the power of the spell, they may not be fighting it entirely – and mages, particularly Sunhame mages, understood more than most the power of belief.

They stopped by the Captain’s office first, giving him a not so welcome break from reviewing requisition forms by informing him of the Furies’ presence and then giving him something more to worry about by telling him they were going to be ‘trying something out’ and it would be best they weren’t disturbed.

This wasn’t the first time they’d given that warning – though it was the first time they’d be doing the experiment indoors. The rest of the times they had claimed a training ground; given the destruction that had resulted on those training grounds, Kir was fairly certain they wouldn’t be disturbed. Publicly trying to figure out if melting armor to slag was a valid mid-combat tactic (and subsequently discovering that pinpointing one set of armor at the necessary speeds was difficult, if not impossible) could do that.

“So how do you want to do this?” Anur asked, taking off his boots and claiming ‘his’ chair immediately, pulling his legs up so he could contort himself into yet another impossible to be comfortable position.

Kir got some water into a kettle and set it to heat – he didn’t doubt he’d need some headache tea at some point today and sooner rather than later – before he replied. “I think it’d be best to go straight to the second stage – put that one on me. I want to see how it feels and judge the difficulty to dodge questions.”

“All right – give me a moment, I haven’t done this in a while,” Anur went distant-eyed and Kir made a mental note to ask about that. If he had to do that every time, it wouldn’t take much for someone to realize it was _him_ that was casting this ‘spell’ and subsequently accuse him of witchcraft. That could limit its usefulness already.

“Ready,” Anur said, Kir blinking in surprise but then nodding thoughtfully. He didn’t feel a thing, and he’d been anticipating it – that was good, at least.

“You have to ask me a question, Herald,” he pointed out dryly, Anur immediately looking sheepish and nodding agreeably, before hesitating and then asking, “Um – how old are you? Try lying.”

“Fo – fi –“ he literally _couldn’t_ get the lie out, his tongue was heavy in his mouth, clumsily stumbling over syllables and his mind strained against the still undetectable vise it was clearly stuck in, before he gasped, “Twenty-seven,” and it was like a vast burden had vanished from his shoulders, Kir bracing himself on the back of his chair and breathing shakily.

“Wait, seriously? You’re twenty-seven?” Anur blinked at him.

“Yes,” Kir replied, raising an eyebrow.

“When’s your birthing day?” Anur demanded, “Mines fifth day of the Vernal Moon.”

“Seventeenth of the Harvest,” Kir shrugged, “Happy belated birthing day then. How old are you?”

“Twenty-five!” Anur crossed his arms indignantly, “I can’t believe I’m the younger one!”

“I think literally everyone could have guessed that,” Kir retorted, smirking, “Little brother.”

“Oh shut up,” Anur grumbled, “I always wanted a little brother, I already _have_ an older brother!”

“I was the youngest,” Kir shrugged, before frowning slightly, “Though I suppose that could have changed. My parents weren’t that old when I was taken.”

“I guess then it’s not _so_ bad that I’m younger,” the Herald gave a long-suffering sigh, “And I guess you _have_ saved my life a few times, and you’re overprotective – so that’s typical.”

“Like you’re not just as bad!” Kir laughed, “Now come on, we’re testing the truth spell, not debating who should be older! Ask a more complex question, I want to test the flexibility of answers.”

“Uh… hells. I don’t know! Maybe – why do you hate mindspeech so much?”

He wasn’t sure if it was the influence of the truth spell, or if it was just the question itself, but memories he had very carefully ignored for years were immediately pulled forward and he went white, blood roaring in his ears – he couldn’t answer that. He _would not_ answer that!

“Kir! Ignore the question, no answer needed – crap, Kir! Stop!”

Anur was there, grabbing his shaking hands and saying earnestly, “Don’t answer that Kir, shit. I’m _sorry_ I shouldn’t have asked that, it was just the first thing that came to mind when it came to a complex question. I’m _sorry_.”

Kir shuddered, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, Anur silently waiting for a response. He waited for a few moments, while Kir carefully acknowledged those memories as there, as important, before shoving them back again. He had dealt with them before, after all. They were simply – unpleasant. Particularly when unexpectedly brought forward.

But at least a question about the truth spell had been answered.

“So it doesn’t force you to respond,” Kir said, opening his eyes again and meeting Anur’s worried gaze calmly, “I felt no _need_ to respond – quite the opposite, in fact.”

“Right,” Anur asked, face still pale, “Right – that’s good?”

“Am I still under the truth spell?”

“Yes – I’ll let it go then – “

“No! We haven’t finished yet,” Kir cut him off, straightening and taking a measuring breath again, Anur carefully resuming his seat and watching him worriedly. “All right,” he said quietly, “What should I ask then?”

“Another complex one – not a yes or no answer. Try and make it similar to what we’d be asking them?” he requested, Anur nodding shortly and staring into the distance for a moment. Undoubtedly he was consulting with Aelius as to an appropriately complex let innocuous question. There weren’t many options, unfortunately, but with the Cat of Fire freeing children he otherwise would have burned, he’d be having nightmares anyway.

Might as well liven up the selection.

“How do you feel about witch-hunting?” Anur asked finally, Kir mulling over his answer carefully. Anur knew the majority of his response already, but the point wasn’t to answer honestly, the point was to see how far he could twist his responses to resemble lies.

“It is an essential duty, and one I’m honored to carry out,” Kir said, taking shameless advantage of the multiple meanings of witch.

Anur stared at him for a moment before huffing a laugh and rephrasing the question, “How do you feel about hunting those with Gifts, called witch-powers?”

Kir shot him a grin before working at that answer, managing to get out, “Also an essential duty, and for the – safety of – it’s wrong!” he burst, panting as the pressure eased – it was a primarily a mental reaction. While he physically couldn’t form the lie, the mental pressure somehow forced the truth out one he started talking, rather than let him regain silence. So long as the person was _talking_ then, he could ask safely. It would require careful wording though.

One thing left to test then.

“Another one with a simple answer – but something I genuinely _wouldn’t_ want you to know,” Kir ordered.

Anur flinched, “I don’t want to do that, Kir.”

“And I’m sorry, but have you ever done this spell on mages trained to fight coercion?”

“…No. You were trained?”

“Of course – all the better to perform coercion and trickery myself,” Kir smiled wryly, not needing any urging to answer that one honestly – and interesting to note that he could add extraneous comments to a simple answer. Another possible means of dodging or at least diverting attention; he’d have to be very careful if they ever used this.

“But,” he continued briskly, “Ancar’s mages would be far more skilled at coercion and avoiding bindings than I, so it’s a good test – the scenario may have been outlandish before, but now it’s entirely possible. Better we test it at least partially here before more important information is lost or masked because of it.”

“All right. I’m not arguing with that, but I want it established that I don’t like this,” Anur growled, snapping his gaze up from the fire and demanding, “How many children have you burned?”

 _No_ , Kir immediately thought, _I must lie_.

With the age question, he had jumped two decades – would it have been easier if the first syllables were the same? Could he continue the answer mentally, and thereby trick the spell into his response being complete? How many _had_ he burned anyway?

As if he had ever forgotten that number.

“Four,”  _teen_ he thought desperately, screaming it in his head but he could feel his throat straining, tongue forming the remaining syllable even while he gagged around the choked air, “-teen,” he gasped, “Fourteen.”

Arms wrapped around him and he sagged into Anur, burying his face into his friend’s shoulders, trembling as he wrapped his own mind around that answer, that lurking, damning number he prayed would never grow, just as he had prayed every time it increased. “Well,” he managed, “That answers that. If we can get them to talk, they can’t avoid answering in full, so long as the questions are worded carefully.”

“I’m not doing that to you again,” Anur said fiercely, hold tightening, “We’re _done_ experimenting with this, all right? Please?”

“All right,” Kir agreed, head throbbing – there was definitely a major mental component to the struggle then. Good thing he had set the water to heat before this experiment, it should be hot enough now.

But the tea could wait a few more moments. He just wanted to stand here for a time.

 


	15. Firebreaker

An elbow in the ribs woke him from another night’s restless sleep, Kir opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling of the traveler’s chapel with a sigh, “Yes?” he asked tiredly.

They had chased the Furies and the summoners across the entire dead-zone to the base of the Comb – Anur’s truth spell had been entirely unnecessary. Judging by the amount of vomit the lead summoner had expelled after each rite and the shaking hands of the junior summoners, he felt fairly confident in saying that they _didn’t_ enjoy this particular duty of theirs. They had also summoned far fewer than was usual for a heretic hunting swarm – and fewer swarms overall than there had been in previous rounds.

That didn’t mean that hunting down each and every one of the blasted things wasn’t tedious, time consuming, and exhausting. Molding his mild magic so he formed an ideal target for them didn’t always work after all; they’d go for the closer prey over the more ideal every time, the lazy monsters.

It was a good thing that Captains Ulrich and Naomi were in direct communication now and more than comfortable with plotting together; it made these sorts of indeterminately long jaunts much easier to arrange.

“Forester rode in – that smolder they warned us about jumped into the trees, it’s a crown fire now. Jumped into an area with a few mining and logging towns,” Anur said, quickly getting up and dressing.

Kir grumbled under his breath as he followed the Herald’s example, careful to avoid stepping on Galen, still asleep. It must be near dawn then, Balin had asked for the dawn watch. “Aelius?” he asked, guessing that there hadn’t actually been any physical relay of the forester’s presence.

“Woke up when the horse came in, has been listening ever since,” Anur replied, straightening his sash and looking over at him, “We have a plan?”

Kir dropped his metal Sun in Glory medallion over his neck and led the way out of the bunkroom – not part of the sacristy, this was a larger chapel. “Depends on the forester,” Kir replied, “I can make firebreaks, and enforce them in crown-fires, but if I’m not welcome,” Kir shrugged, “Then I’m not welcome.”

“Here’s hoping you’re not welcome,” Anur shivered, “Crown fires… they’re bad. And this whole area’s pretty dry to begin with.”

“Father Kir!” Balin blinked at them in surprise, holding a canteen out to a dusty and tired forester, identified by the just-visible emblem on his vest.

“Second Scout Sescha,” he nodded shortly, “The smolder we were warned about jumped, then?”

“Yes Sun’s Ray,” the stranger said tiredly, looking up from the now half-empty canteen. “I was heading to the nearest Sunsguard to ask for assistance in constructing firebreaks and evacuations.”

“What station were you directing them to, we can provide aid,” Kir said shortly, guessing from the more informal title for an unknown priest that the forester hadn’t noticed the black-trim on his robes. Either that, or he was too concerned about this crown fire to care.

“River three, sir,” Balin inserted, “Already have it marked on the maps.”

“Good,” Kir nodded, “Bellamy?”

“I’ll roust Galen,” Anur agreed, walking back into the chapel. Balin made to stand but Kir waved him back down, “Ensure Forester - ?”

“Vahin, Sun’s Ray,” the man replied, taking another gulp of water. Kir nodded and continued, “Vahin then, gets adequately re-supplied and rested before he heads for the Sunsguard. Unfortunately, I believe the nearest stationing is the 103rd.”

“Yes sir, I directed him to go to the next nearest, south along Menmellith – the 103rd can’t spare any men from the bandit raids this summer.”

“The entire Valdemaran border is short-handed,” Kir elaborated to the Forester, “The usual three units were reduced to two some time ago and the bandits are happy to take advantage of the inevitable gaps in coverage.”

“Fantastic,” the man groaned, “We had wondered. Very well, I’ll proceed south. Thank you for the information and the offer of aid.”

Kir simply nodded before heading for the horses. He managed to get Riva and Aelius ready to go before the twins emerged and got to their horses, Anur quickly following with both their saddlebags packed and restocked with basic rations. “I left payment behind,” Anur assured him, tossing the bags over their horses’ backs and securing them.

“Thank you,” Kir murmured, Anur nodding back with a grimacing smile. He was clearly not looking forward to dealing with a forest fire. Kir didn’t blame him – he had never been involved in a fire in the Comb, but those in the wooded hollows nearer the Hardorn-Valdemar junction had been bad enough, and they were often relatively isolated. Here there was an unbroken expanse of forest, pockmarked with towns and villages that had some precautions in place, but there was only so much firebreaks and soaking could do.

This was not going to be pleasant.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur didn’t like forest fires. To be frank, he didn’t like fires in general when Kir wasn’t around, not anymore, but forest fires had always been a particular fear of his. There had been a bad one when he first went out on a messenger run – and his leaving hadn’t been a particularly precipitous event to begin with, so the worst fire in decades up by Iftel was just spice in the cake.

Kir was here though, and that was about the only thing that kept him from turning Aelius around and saying thanks but no thanks. But forest fires – they were an entirely different breed from the controlled flames Kir usually worked with, even the bonfires were still limited in scope. As confident in Kir’s abilities as he was, even he wasn’t certain how this was going to work out.

_:Nor am I, Chosen. He has immense control, but for something like forest fires – I think someone with more power, like Griffon, would work better.:_

_:Didn’t you say Kir was more powerful than Griffon once?:_

_:I thought so – but the way Kir’s spoken of it, I think I was wrong – Kir is still better, simply because he has a far greater finesse and understanding of his Gift but I think for brute force in either direction, Griffon has more to offer. And then there’s the fact that the vrondi only notice his flames sometimes – I think he enhances his Gift with magic:_

_:Griffon still has trouble putting out big fires though – I would much rather be with Kir. And wouldn’t that make up for the power difference?:_

_:Oh, me too, most definitely, Chosen, I’m simply saying if Griffon ever got better at putting fires out, he’d be better for this sort of job. As for the power difference, I have no idea. I’m no expert on mage-craft.:_

_:Well Griff’s not here, and even if he were, he wouldn’t be able to come. So it’s up to us. Again. I hate forest fires.:_

_:We’ll be all right, Chosen. We’re probably going to go and help build firebreaks, help in evacuations – that’s really all that can be done with these sorts of fires, especially now that it’s gotten to the crowns.:_

_:Yeah, but it’s far easier to jump breaks when it’s a crown fire – the firebreak is going to have to be ridiculously wide – I hope they’ve already got a good clear area around the towns and settlements, otherwise there’s no way this will work.:_

Any rejoinder was cut off, they had reached the fire tower. Reining in beside Kir, he quickly looked over the clearing – it was bizarrely empty. “Hail the camp!” Galen shouted, hands cupped to his mouth, and it even echoed, but there was no response.

“We _are_ at the right station, right?” Anur asked, frowning as he looked around.

Balin looked up from where he and his brother were examining a map, saying, “Yes, sir – River Three, says so on the tower.”

Anur finally spotted the brass letters nailed into the wood and grinned sheepishly, “Whoops. I see it now. Thanks.”

“But that still raises the question of where they went,” Kir frowned, “I realize that our scouting squad isn’t exactly a lot of help, but Forester Vahin had no way of alerting them in advance – if this is where he was sending everybody, then there should be someone here waiting so any help can be directed.”

Swinging down from Riva, he ordered him to stand before heading over to the tower itself, walking around the base in a full circle and giving a victorious, “Ha!” on the other side.

Aelius trotted over to stand next to him and Anur slid down, reading the posted letter over Kir’s shoulder.

_To reinforcements_

_Thanks for coming. Smolder jumped to crown, Vahin was sent to get assistance. Not sure any is actually coming, thought it a bigger priority to evacuate the main mining and logging town. Fire was headed that way at speed thanks to the wind. Headings are on the map at the top of the tower – less disorienting up there. Evacuation route traced in red, we’re split between moving them out and working on widening the town’s firebreak._

_Vkandis bless,_

_Trevyr Nachtaben, Head Forester of Station River Three_

“Hope you’re not scared of heights, Herald,” Kir said.

Anur stared up at the tower and sighed, “No, not really. Though I’m not particularly fond of them.”

_:I will wait down here,:_ Aelius said smugly.

_:Shut up, witch-horse,:_ Anur grumbled, following Kir at a brisk pace up the stairs, hearing the twins start up after them soon after. They had to actually secure their horses after all – or at least they didn’t rely on Aelius’ horse-herding capabilities.

_:Ah yes, much like your goat-herding talents.:_

_:Hate you.:_

_:Hate you too, Chosen.:_

Following Kir up a ladder, they finally reached the platform and left the shelter at the top, rewarded with breathtakingly beautiful views of the mountains – or what would be, if not for the fire raging to the northwest of them. It might be his imagination, but he thought he could actually _hear_ that monstrous fire crackling and snarling in the distance like some feral wolf.

“That is a beauty,” Kir said admiringly, Anur shooting his friend a disturbed look. It was a _forest fire_ and was, by definition,destructive and _utterly terrifying_. Foresters could lecture him on the necessity of fires to the health of forests till they turned blue – he didn’t care if the place burned to the ground, so long as _he wasn’t there_.

And he was here. Vkandis help him.

“Ah, sir?” Balin said, clearly nervous, “It’s grown – a lot.”

“The map?” Kir asked, looking over his shoulder at the equally pale twins who were standing over a table-map, colored pebbles serving as markers. Anur followed him back into the shelter to look. It was a relief to leave that sight behind for the moment, and the wind – a refreshing breeze on the ground was pretty forceful this high up.

“Yes sir – according to this, the flames were back here when the foresters left, and that was yesterday afternoon,” Galen indicated a line of white stones, forming an irregular blob that was, indeed, indicating a much smaller area then the blackened and aflame areas they had seen just a few moments ago.

“And the mining settlement is here – damn, the flames are almost on top of it, aren’t they?” Anur asked rhetorically, tracing the evacuation route with his finger. “They’re not going to make it.”

“Not with standard firefighting, they’re not,” Kir agreed, pointing at a row of black pebbles, “And those that were on this planned firebreak – they’ve either pulled out or been scorched.”

The four of them stood in silence, staring at the map before them while the wind carried the smell of ash and roar of a hungry flame from the northwest. Balin finally hissed out a breath before looking up, asking, “Plan, Father Kir?”

Kir grimaced, looking over at Anur and he knew that look – that was the self-sacrificing _I know you won’t like this_ look. He knew that look very well he had given it himself more than a few times, but Kir _was not_ supposed to _ever_ give him that look - !

“You stay here,” Kir said shortly, holding up a hand to halt objections, “You can communicate changes in flame intensity and direction to the witch-horse. Between your observations of the flame and the map here it would be a much quicker navigational method. Also, if more help comes, you can explain and give orders. These two would be ignored.”

He hated it when friends’ self-sacrifice plans made so much damn sense.

“You two will be coming with me to find the evacuation route and offer aid there – they’ll need all the help they can get,” Kir continued.

_:I don’t like this, Aelius.:_

_:But it’s the best we’ve got, Chosen. I agree.:_

_:…Take care of him? And come back?:_

_:I’ll do all I can, Chosen.:_

“Herald?” Anur shook his head briefly, looking over at Kir and finding his friend looking at him worriedly, twins already booking it down the stairs.

“Sorry, Kir, just talking to Aelius,” Anur tried to smile – and highly doubted it worked. “I don’t like it, but it’s a good plan.”

Kir tugged him into a rough hug, resting their foreheads against each other – the gesture brought a more genuine smile to Anur’s face and Kir echoed it. “It’ll be all right Herald,” Kir said confidently, “A little hot, but all right.”

“That was a horrible pun,” Anur said flatly, before stepping back with a grateful smile, “Vkandis protect and guide, Kir.”

“May He watch over you, Anur,” Kir replied, sketching the Holy Disk before he dropped down the ladder, footsteps revealing he’d broken into a run.

Anur took a deep breath, examining the map one more time, then stepping back outside to face the reality of the flames on the mountains. Forest fires were awful, but if anyone was going to get out of one alive and well, it was Kir.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Hooves pounded across the dry mast layered thickly on the floor and Kir wanted to curse. It was all too clear that there hadn’t been a solid burn in the area for _years_ which meant this one was taking advantage of a whole _host_ of things to turn a reasonable burn into a true firestorm.

Taking his right hand off his leg he pressed it to the witch-horse’s damp neck and he repressed a visceral shudder before he thought, _Witch-Horse._

A startled twitch was his response, but no words echoed in his mind – of all times for the blasted beast to pay attention to courtesy!

_Witch-horse. How far out are we?_

_:We’re about to cross the evacuation route, then I’ll head up it until we reach the foresters.:_

_:Kir? What are you-?:_ Damn it, Anur was there as well, he should have known better.

_:Not. Now. Or ever, that’s what I wanted to know.:_

He immediately threw up every type of mental defense he’d read or heard or thought about in an effort to keep them from following and if it weren’t for the fact he could _feel_ the utter raging _power_ drawing towards them he would hunch in on himself and shudder convulsively for a few moments. He _hated_ thought-speech.

But not as much as he hated the screams.

Ears catching the faint strains of terror, he snarled and crashed his own will into the storm, guiding it up and back in on itself and looping down to catch a less southerly breeze. Strands broke free, entire _gouts_ broke free but the screams had subsided and by Vkandis _he would hold_.

He had eyes only for the flames straining against his command, his guiding hand, his whisper of a prayer, thankful he had brought the twins with him as speaking was most certainly beyond him at this point – Sunlord had they managed to get the entire town? It certainly looked it, wagons and carts carrying those unable to walk, foresters along the edge of the crowd, urging them on.

“Father Kir,” a familiar voice called, hand resting on his shoulder, “Father Kir, can you hear me?”

Even the focus it took to incline his head sent a lick of flame lashing towards the crowd, a desperate clawing motion managing to crush it down into ash. The twin sounded shaken – _good_ because he had nearly _lost it_ with that damn gesture - !

“Father Kir, the entire town is here. The flames are spreading behind, if you can hold it off long enough for them to get past, Balin and I will take up the end so you know when you can let it go.”

Let it go? Let it _go_ what were they _mad_?! Let this much raging power go after being turned in on itself and diverted would be like simply vanishing an entire dam and expecting a group leaving for higher ground as if it were an average flood-season to survive!

Kir shot his hand out and grabbed the man’s uniform, wordless snarl escaping as he dragged his weak magic to the fore, scrambling towards the bare trickles of natural energy he could safely channel - _:Here.:_

No reaction to that voice, not this time, damned blasted beast. The carefully channeled magical energy – potent as a node, calm as the pools he’d only read about – was swiftly bent into his fire-hold as a stop-gap, giving him the chance to turn to the frozen Balin Sescha and say through a throat clogged with ash, “Letting it go after holding it back would be like vanishing a dam – the breakthrough would catch and kill you in moments. I will have to wait. We will be signaled when you are safe.”

He would have to keep moving, he didn’t say. Fires consumed, they _ate_ and if he could just move it, move it to greener pastures, even already burned ground could be returned to fuel if he focused – much easier than simply halting the flames in their path like he was right now – then he might have a chance.

Something of that must have come through though, as Balin was pasty pale even as he nodded, murmuring benedictions before hurrying to his brother and who he would presume was the head forester. Kir could only exchange a nod with the man before the energy the witch-horse had fed him started wavering and he was caught up in a struggle of wills once more.

Finally, _finally,_ they were far enough back that he could allow some of the rear to collapse, flames roaring in triumph as they were freed and howling across the former evacuation route, diving into the fresh scrub with a contented snarl. Could he help it, that he heard voices in the flames? That he had spent so much time around fire that it whispered to him, grumbled and snarled as people harnessed smothered and feared its existence?

Hand clinging to that white neck again, he managed to whisper aloud, “Witch-horse, we have no time for this. Speak.”

_:What will you have me do, Kir?:_

_:Find the firebreak – if any still live, we must find them,:_ Kir replied, blocking away every whisper of horror in a corner of his mind to be dealt with _later_.

He had just started getting a decent night’s rest after the last reminders, and all that work was being undone now. It wasn’t like providing fuel to change up the horrors every once and a while would make it any worse.

_:I can send you strength.:_

_:Do it.:_

The witch-horse launched forward, straight into the flames and Kir hoped that Anur was not linked with him at the moment, maybe even only barely linked to the witch-horse, because the thoughts he was weaving into his will, exerting on the flames, were not things he would have anyone hear.

_Come_ , he answered the fire’s rage, the roaring defiance in the face of those who would confine it, the anger that anything would _dare_ block it’s path, _Come to me._

_And burn._

He no longer had to think about guarding the evacuation, with a twist of will and a lure, he turned himself, his own vibrations and energy, into the most desirable fuel source for the flames. As a consequence, he brought down fire upon the witch-horse as well, but that could not be helped. What _could_ be helped was whether or not they actually burned.

It was his job now, to ensure that they didn’t.

Learning to set flames, to light them quickly and at the perfect temperature, had taken time. While considered a prodigy, he had not taken to the methods his mentor had explained, nor even the methods that his teachers in Sunhame had explained. He did not pull on nature’s energy and strength to coax flames forth, he did not call on the skies to bring down lightning for drama – he simply… lit.

But in order to satisfy them, in order to satisfy _himself_ , he had learned to draw the energy of the weak streams he could access – barely ley-lines, truly, mere trickles of power – and weave it into the flames he could call with hardly any effort. It had been hard, but the extra degree of control it had given him had been _priceless_ and though now he needed no ley-lines to bring flames under his control, those years of struggling with a method no one else understood came in handy. It meant that the energy the witch-horse doled out to him (and wasn’t it interesting, a part of him noted, that witch-horses bleached dye white and were able to draw on node energy, known for _bleaching hair_?) could be woven into his control of the flames, into retaining the air that they breathed without scorching their lungs, without much thought.

Not without effort, but without thought. An important distinction.

_:Coming up on the break – there are two left that can be saved.:_

_:Get me to them,:_ Kir ordered, reaching out and finding those fluttering presences, the usual steady beating of their hearts buzzing in his ears, breaths and hearts and pulsing blood blending together and nearly impossible to find in the all-consuming roar of this flame.

An exhale coupled with a harsh _shove_ sent the flames splitting and parting before him, revealing two ash-stained and coughing foresters in the cleared area they’d managed to hold. One woman, another man – he was unconscious, his left arm badly burned. She had avoided the worst of it – clothes and hair mostly, all metal, if there had even been any, discarded by this point – but smoke inhalation was no joke and killed more surely than flames did.

By the filmy scarves wrapped around their noses and mouths, they knew this. Undoubtedly they had been damp when this started but by now all moisture had been stripped away – his sweat was long evaporated, consumed by the near blistering heat that he was barely able to keep away. Not having to move made it a little easier to hold the flames back and away – especially since he wasn’t trying to block it from going in any other direction. There wasn’t much desirable fuel left here, not now that he’d dropped his lure.

Dismounting, he walked over to them and said, “Any others?”

The witch-horse had said there weren’t, but he didn’t want to accept that without checking. There had been at least five sent out here, probably more. The thought that he was too late to do anything for more than two of them was disheartening.

“No Your Holiness,” the woman rasped, dark eyes pinched and worried, but still rather young – no older than him, certainly, “The evacuation?”

“Clear,” he replied shortly, looking at the witch-horse for a bare moment before deciding. “Get yourself and your comrade on the horse – I can part the flames for you and he knows the way back.”

“But Sun’s Ray-!” she objected, clearly understanding that the odds of him surviving that encounter were slim – not so slim as she thought, but slim. He ignored her, he had a more critical audience to convince.

_:Promise me. Promise me that you will not use that lure trick on the flames to get us safely out,:_ Aelius said, voice stern.

_:I will do all I can,:_ Kir thought back, ignoring the girl’s continued objections, an ash-stained muzzle nudging his chest and blue eyes gazing at him.

_:I will give you all the strength you can bear,:_ the witch-horse said, something terrible in his tone but before Kir could clarify he felt the strength of a thousand ley-lines pour into him, somehow failing to burn him to ash from the inside out by combined force of will and the fact that as fast as it poured in, he could shove it into his working on the flames faster. Finally, interminably later, it stopped and he could hardly move for fear that the delicate balance he had managed with that terrible energy was disrupted.

Moisture on his face – what was it doing there, the fire should have burned all water sources away –

“Firestarter! You’re bleeding!” the conscious forester cried, Kir struggled to turn his gaze to her and she recoiled, seeing something awful in his face. At least it was expected.

“Go,” Kir managed to rasp, and when she hesitated _again_ curse it all, he even found the focus to say it again and harsher, “Go!”

She threw the unconscious older man onto Aelius, swinging up behind and the witch-horse shot off, Kir using gestures to guide his intent as he hadn’t had to in years, parting the flames before the horse and closing his eyes. Sight would do him no good now, he had to focus on sensing the peculiar _hum_ of living things over the roar of the flame and the cracking of the forest and the wet dripping of his blood onto the ground – part the flames, let them come back around. Part, and close. Part, and close. A ripple, like a spear through water, like a knife through smoke – clearing the path, but not permanently.

Gasping as his range shattered, sense of the witch-horse’s hum splintering in his mind, Kir found himself on his knees in painfully hot ash, blood sizzling as it hit the ground. He shuddered, exhaling forcefully and the painful edge to the heat vanished, rippling away from him in a haze. He had to hope that they were out of the firestorm now, because he couldn’t help them any longer.

He doubted he could help himself.

A raspy laugh escaped, Kir listing to the side before swaying his way back to something approximating upright. It seemed his initial plans – to burn himself before anyone else managed it – were back on the table.

It was almost poetic.

_:Poetic, perhaps,:_ a voice just past the edge of adulthood echoed in his mind – truly echoed, not like the witch-horse’s more solid tones, or even Anur’s only once-heard rush of sensations wrapped in words. _:But I never particularly cared for poetry, and to be honest, Kir Dinesh of Karse, you don’t strike me as a poetic connoisseur either. Let me help you, cousin.:_

_:I could use the help,:_ Kir replied weakly, eyeing the young man crouched next to him in Whites with weary suspicion. Something here was off, most certainly. But did he have the energy to really care?

No. Not anymore.

_:Then let us tame this dragon.:_

And two Firestarters shook hands.

***===***pagebreak***===***

When the evacuation crew had shown up just after noon, Anur had seen the unfamiliar faces leading the way and been concerned.

Once the twins arrived at the rear, minus a certain red-robed menace he called his best friend, he moved on to worried.

After they got to the top of the tower and he was informed that Kir was, in fact, _still out there,_ and Aelius was, in fact, _ignoring him,_ he skipped ‘worriedly concerned’ and went straight on to anxious.

So by the time Aelius pounded into camp a few marks before dusk with the only two survivors of the firebreak crew on his back, he felt he could be excused his immediate departure from where he’d been helping the foresters deal with the evacuated villagers. _:Kir?:_ he demanded, running towards where his Companion was being surrounded by relieved and worried foresters.

_:Still out there – made him promise he would try and stick it out, but this is a big one Chosen.:_

_:Ready to run?:_

_:Always.:_

With a spin, Aelius broke free of the crowd and slithered out from under the slowly dismounting girl, who fell the rest of the way with a startled yelp. Anur didn’t bother to apologize as he passed her before throwing himself into Aelius’ saddle, Companion launching into their legendary gait from a stop before he was even settled. He didn’t need to be – he was a Herald, and Heralds were impossible to unseat while conscious and damn difficult to force off when they weren’t.

And while he was surprised when pounding hooves came up behind him and Riva soon matched Aelius step for step, he just filed it under yet another bizarre thing about that horse and moved on. Kir had clearly known something was odd about Riva’s increase in endurance but hadn’t thought it worth mentioning seasons ago – maybe after this he’d be able to pester answers out of him. But first he had to find his friend (alive) to get those answers.

Aelius didn’t falter, clearly knowing where he was going, but they were forced to stop by a wall of heat and flames that they couldn’t bypass. Anur swore, pounding on the pommel of his saddle in frustration – it was doubtful that Kir could spare the energy to reach out to them and force the flames into a path, not and keep himself alive which was _always_ the priority. So how the hells were they supposed to reach him?

Riva slid to a halt beside him and the red roan eyed the flames, before throwing himself up into a rear, screaming neigh echoing as he pawed the air before thudding back down to all fours. While Anur and Aelius were also distressed, this was approaching seriously bizarre territory as far as Riva’s behavior went.

_:Here you are!:_ a female mind-voice said, clearly relieved, as an unfamiliar Companion _appeared_ to his right. And it was definitely _appeared –_ because she had not been there and then with a bit of glowing white mist she suddenly _was_ – an apparition. A bloody apparition, when had his life become a Bardic saga?

_:I’m afraid I may have frightened those foresters – you are hard to find,:_ her voice was somehow chiding, as if they could afford to be easy to find when they were fooling two nations as to their location.

_:Follow,:_ she said, and the spirit unhesitatingly stepped into the fire, flames parting before her. Anur was not about to look a gift horse – or Companion ghost-spirit for that matter – in the mouth, and Aelius undoubtedly agreed as he pursued her at a run.

Riva followed, and at this point why did he even bother being surprised?

It was unnerving, following an apparition through flames and scorched earth and more flames – at times she was barely visible except for where the flames parted unnaturally, other times she seemed just as solid and real as Aelius.

So long as she brought him to Kir, he didn’t really care. He could think about it later, mull things over and come up with theories – so long as he had his brother to bounce ideas off of.

_Vkandis Sunlord you absolute_ jackass _if he_ dies _here I swear god or no I will_ find a way _to ru –_

His heart nearly stopped when they reached a scorched clearing and saw a bloody-faced Kir collapsing into the ash, the ghost of a Herald flickering with, presumably, his Companion. “Kir!” he cried, launching of Aelius to catch him, choking fear fading slightly when he heard his friend mumble, “Fine, I’m fine.”

“You are so not,” Anur retorted, Kir’s entire weight leaning into him. Relief was making him light-headed, Aelius coming up to brace him and Riva stepping forward to stick his nose in Kir’s hair.

The exhausted Firestarter still spluttered and waved his horse away, muttering, “Ridiculous horse.”

“He was worried,” Anur scolded, immediately continuing, “We all were. Damn it Kir!”

“I’m fine,” Kir muttered, “We’re fine – fire’s over.”

Startled, Anur looked around, registering the barely visible presence of a Herald and Companion pair off to the side, much more visible against blackened and scorched forest, not a flame to be seen. “Did you just put out the entire forest fire?” Anur asked, awestruck.

“With assistance,” Kir replied, blood dried onto his face cracking as he winced, hand making an aborted motion towards his temple.

_:This is where I leave you then,:_ an unfamiliar male mind-voice said, odd echoing quality to the tones – it must be the ghostly Herald. _:Come visit me sometime, cousin.:_

_:Someday. Thank you for the assistance,:_ Anur nearly choked as a mind-voice unmistakably _Kir_ responded. He had thought he’d heard Kir speaking with Aelius earlier, but had passed it off as wishful thinking but – Kir could _mindspeak_?

_:Yes, thank you,:_ Anur broadsent, staring at the now entirely fading apparitions, wanting to make sure whoever it was that had helped him knew that his efforts were more than appreciated.

The area seemed suddenly _less_ and all he could guess was that it was the sign of the Companion-Herald pair leaving to go back to wherever they usually resided. Assuming they hadn’t exited the Havens for this, but he doubted that, it seemed more likely they were bound to one place like the Hardornen ghosts – except without the whole blood-magic and evil aspect of it, hopefully.

“Kir?” Anur asked aloud, Kir trembling as he turned to bury his face into Anur’s shoulder.

“I hate mindspeech,” Kir whispered, “No more.”

“Okay,” Anur agreed, he’d agree to just about anything right now, and if Kir needed him to not ask about the mindspeech thing – he would _never_ ask about it again, not after last time – he’d do it and continue on like they had, where no one and nothing spoke in Kir’s mind. Aelius had mentioned joint shields for espionage – and Kir was already augmenting his own shields, so he’d just make that a mutual thing. If Kir didn’t want anyone in his mind, then he’d _make it happen_ because Kir was still _alive_ thank Vkandis.

On that note – _sorry about the threats, but not really because I meant them, thank you for not collecting Kir into Sunheart just yet._

There was that taken care of. Now for getting Kir out of here and somewhere with food and water and ground not choked with ash.

“Kir, can you stand alone?” Anur asked lowly.

“Ugh. Maybe?” Kir whispered, “Really bad headache. And ache. Just aches in general, really.”

_:After the amount of mage-energy he channeled without burning out, he’s going to be aching for a while – and the headache is going to be utterly horrendous, and long-lasting. Especially with all the flames he’s been doing recently and not being fully recovered from those.:_

Anur passed that on and Kir just groaned, leaning over to dry-heave. Finishing, Anur carefully shoved his hair off his sweat-slick forehead and Kir shuddered, “Headaches suck,” he mumbled.

Despite his friend’s clear misery, Anur couldn’t stop smiling. Kir was alive. Miserable and suffering for the moment, but alive. That would keep him going for a while yet.

Which was good, he reflected ruefully, bodily lifting Kir onto the kneeling Aelius’ back and steadying him while Aelius stood. Pulling himself up behind him, Anur reached around Kir to pretend to need the reins and Kir collapsed against him, eyes screwed shut and face tight with pain. Hopefully that pain-tea he carried around would actually do some good for this headache – and maybe some of it was caused by plain dehydration and lack of food. Might as well think relatively positive.

“Riva?” Kir murmured and Anur snorted, replying, “I don’t think so. You can’t even stand on your own. No way are you going to make it back to the firetower on him.”

“When we get there,” Kir replied, Anur grumbling mentally about stubborn prideful idiots before saying aloud, “We’ll see.”

He’d probably be passed out by then anyway which would make the entire thing moot, so there was no need to have him waste energy arguing about it.

He had apparently underestimated Kir’s stubbornness about showing particular levels of weakness in front of strangers though, as right before they got within range of the firetower’s observations, Kir woke up enough to insist on riding Riva, swearing up and down that the horse was more than used to carrying him when he could barely sit up straight, much less stand. Giving in, Anur helped him onto Riva’s back and was remarkably unsurprised to find that he was right – Kir was apparently very used to barely hanging onto consciousness while riding and what that said about his friend’s life before he’d had someone to watch his back he didn’t care to think about too much.

At least he’d had Riva, a horse Anur was just about ready to call a miracle in himself.

He had entirely forgotten Kalira’s mention of terrifying the foresters though, only to be reminded when everyone at the tower stared at them when they arrived, clearly in some form of shock. While he would  have passed that off as their appearance, he heard the whispers of ‘White-Demon’ starting up and after a reflexive check of Aelius’ disguise (ash-covered but holding) he knew.

“Kalira apologizes for startling you,” Anur said, pitching his voice to carry before he entirely registered what he’d just said. Kalira? Who the hell was – “Why do I know what that horse’s name was?!” he demanded, looking over at Kir wildly for the simple reason that looking at Aelius would be a little suspicious right now.

Kir gave a wry smirk and rasped, “Best not think about it too hard.”

The twins quickly reached them, followed by the forester that had been introduced as Trevyr Nachtaben, Anur swinging down from Aelius and catching Kir as he slid off Riva’s back. “Father Kir!” Balin cried in relief, smile turning to a frown as he caught Kir’s flinch, “Sir?” he asked, lowering his voice and looking between the two of them.

“Headache,” Anur replied lowly, offering a half-shrug, “Imagine the hangover from hell, times three, without actually getting to drink first.”

“Ugh,” all three shuddered before looking at Kir in clear sympathy (and awe, which was well deserved, Anur thought).

“We have a well, we’ll get you some water – since the fire’s gone we were just going to set up camp here before determining if it’s safe for the villagers to return just yet,” Nachtaben said quietly, before directing his attention entirely at Kir, “And Your Holiness, let me be the first to say _thank you_ – you saved two I had thought lost and an entire evacuation I thought would claim us all. Thank you.”

Kir reached out and rested a hand on the man’s shoulder, meeting his gaze tiredly and replying, “You are welcome. And thank you, for the work you do. Without your foresters and their solid training, none of this rescue would have worked.”

Expressions of mutual appreciation over for the moment, Anur and Balin got Kir to the area the twins had set up as their own camp, someone already boiling water for tea that Galen soon arrived with herbs for, having unsaddled Aelius and Riva. A bucket of water was brought out and Kir pulled off his ash-stained robe and left it aside for the moment, scrubbing his arms and face clean of ash before dunking his entire head into the cold water and pulling it out, water dripping down his back but at least his hair was actually black again rather than entirely ashy-grey.

There were white-strands at his temples though – and Anur knew damn well those hadn’t been there before. Another question to save for later.

Anur washed up as well and returned from checking on Aelius in time to accept a mug of simple black tea – not Kir’s headache blend. That was probably being rationed entirely for Kir, as it should be. The four of them were allowed to sit in relative peace, night having truly fallen while he was out getting Kir. Kir was on his way through his second mug of tea when Galen finally asked, “Kalira? Sirs? Explaining that and our – ah – lack of panic, was… difficult.”

“Her Herald was not so bad,” Kir shrugged, sipping at his tea and wincing, pressing his hand to his head again.

Anur, now that he’d finally had a chance to think about it, was getting a sinking feeling in his gut as to where he had heard the name Kalira before.

“What was his name?” Galen asked curiously.

“Ah – Chitworth, I think it was,” Kir grimaced, “I do not remember clearly, I’m afraid. Most of that bit after… it is a blur.”

“Chitworth?” Anur choked on the name, and his tea, Galen pounding on his back with a manic enthusiasm probably due entirely to his leaving them to explain things.

“You recognize the name?” Balin this time.

“Ah, you could say that,” Anur said, giggling with an edge of hysteria seeping through, “But he’s more commonly called _Lavan Firestorm_.”

“…you named the _cat_ after _that_ _Herald?!_ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I leave the rest of that conversation on appropriate names for cats to the reader's imagination...
> 
> Bit of a supernatural spin again, this time though we do have canon precedent with Vanyel, and Lavan's thing was basically a Final Strike with fire instead of magic so...
> 
> Hope this works for you guys! Thanks for reading, as always :) And happy thanksgiving to my fellow Americans :)


	16. Conspiracies Within Borders

Anur woke up for the third time in as many nights to find Kir sitting on the edge of the bed with his arms braced on his knees. The past two nights he’d just waited quietly for Kir to at least try and fall back asleep, but quiet comradeship was apparently not helping at all so it was time to try something different.

Sitting up, he shifted over so he was sitting next to Kir and said, “Nightmares, huh?”

Kir didn’t say anything, but he didn’t really need to. The shaking hands were enough. Kir hadn’t been getting a full night’s sleep for a while now – Anur hadn’t noticed it regularly until after the Cat of Fire incident, but since that stupid _stupid_ question of his had been asked so soon afterwards he couldn’t really tell which had prompted it. Or if, you know, nearly _burning alive_ had made it worse.

Not that it had to be just one, his friend was nothing if not complex.

“I don’t suppose it’s anything I can help with?” Anur asked wistfully.

“Have you ever doubted?” Kir’s voice was barely over a whisper, Anur leaning in slightly to make sure he heard him, “Doubted your goal, your cause?”

While the answer was easy enough to give, it wasn’t one that would let him help Kir, unfortunately.

“No,” Anur replied bluntly, “All I’ve ever done – it’s been for Valdemar. Even things like this – my friends, my family – none of it works _against_ Valdemar. I would never.”

“Then I’m afraid you can’t help, not really,” Kir said tiredly, “I am jealous, of that certainty.”

They sat in silence for a time longer, Anur guessing it was somewhere in the very wee hours of the morning, before he finally asked, “You going to be able to go back to sleep?”

“No.”

“Want to start working on that stack of letters?” Anur suggested, “I can read them to you.”

Kir hesitated, before nodding agreement and Anur took that as a victory. He quickly stood and found the stack of letters – a truly impressive amount, especially considering a few short moons ago, Solaris had been his only correspondent. But they _had_ been running around like maniacs for the better part of three weeks, so the reports from various former members of the 62nd had been left for later. He settled back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows next to Kir, who had stretched out and flung an arm over his eyes, mouth tight with pain.

Whether from the headache that was still plaguing him and making it difficult for him to read without wanting to stab his own eyes out or emotional pain from the nightmares, he couldn’t say. Didn’t really want to know either, not when he couldn’t help. These were questions of religion, of faith, and if there were a single person less qualified to answer those sorts of questions, he didn’t know them.

Adjusting the mirror on the candle lamp nearby – there was always some form of flame in Kir’s quarters, he’d gotten used to that quickly enough – he then opened up Kir’s ledger of names and started tallying. It was always nice to start with an idea of how much further they had to go; it made any sort of progress made much more satisfying.

“Well, looks like total we’ve got two marked for in-person checks, twelve have been met personally and five assessments are taken entirely from reports coming in,” Anur said.

“How many more critical?” there was a shaky tone to the question he didn’t particularly like – Kir wasn’t focused on these letters, not yet.

“That the star?” Anur asked, Kir humming a wordless assent and the Herald started counting, looking up and saying, “Only eight more with the star. Those the most risky?”

“Most powerful,” Kir agreed, voice remaining low but no longer shaky – at least Anur had managed to distract him with detail questions, “Politically and otherwise. Good. The remainder will not be too much of a threat if the worst happens – we’ll deal with them as we can of course, but it won’t be as time-critical. What’s the next letter?”

Anur picked the next one from the pile and he wasn’t able to stop a surprised, “Huh.”

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir carefully peered out from under his arm to check on the man – sprawled awkwardly across the bed with his legs dangling off the edge in a way he was certain joints _weren’t_ supposed to bend. His attention was entirely on the letter he’d picked up, so it was the sole cause of this surprise, and seeing as he had only just picked it up – “Who’s it from?”

“Loshern,” Anur said slowly, expression suspiciously stunned as he skimmed the letter.

“The exorcist?” Kir asked rhetorically, all vestiges of the nightmares finally falling away, “Well read it out loud then!”

“Right, right,” Anur said hastily, clearing his throat and beginning: “ _To His Holiness Kir Dinesh, Firestarter –_ okay, the rest of your titles go there you know them I’m sure, why did he use them? Anyway – _Greetings, brother. As I have heard no further reports from the Sunsguard situation, I assume it has been resolved. My thanks. I have been in Sunhame for a moon now, having returned immediately from the town where we met, and been investigating the matters we discussed._

_“The blood-mages are being treated as rumor and hearsay. I have rustled up reports from other chaplains and village priests along the border who report signs that could be attributed to blood magic. I am waiting for the last of them to arrive before I present the case. In the meantime, my other Firestarter acquaintances have been reviewing the information presented and searching archives for precedent. Amusing really – the ones I know rather hate the library and archives, but for the chance to find a blood mage they will suffer through it. I will have to remember that for the future!_

_“While collecting those reports I met a fascinating young initiate by the name of Rodri – he was referenced in a_ lothga _report as a victim and his eyewitness account was incredible. His name has been removed from the report I will present, not to worry. He is a remarkable young man and does not need the extra attention such a mention would bring him._

_“He passes on greetings and thanks for your advice regarding the blacksmiths – I was under the impression you had not contacted him yet? Needless to say, I am jealous – he would make a marvelous apprentice in a few years._

_“I will keep you informed. Something is stirring here, brother, and while I am not entirely politically savvy, I know enough to see the currents shifting. Hopefully in the confusion the matter of blood-mages will not be set aside – judging  by the odd weather we’ve had all over the country this year, it will become a problem we_ must _address soon enough, and it would be far better if it never got to that point._

 _“But of course, you are the last person who needs to be told that. Vkandis watch over you brother, Fredric Loshern_ – and the rest of his titles. Huh. He didn’t include exorcist in the list?”

“It’s not something advertised,” Kir answered even as he mulled over what the letter had said in full, “To claim it as a title would seem… arrogant. Rude.”

“Freaking nobility rules with religion added in to make it harder,” Anur grumbled, rereading the letter quietly.

“What’s this about Rodri and a blacksmith?” he asked, pulling Kir from his musings on the composition of the Firestarter Order nowadays. It was a much happier train of thought than the road he’d been walking, so he was happy to answer, “Ah – that is actually a pleasant surprise. Between the transfers and those who simply ended their contract this year I was able to get back in touch with some old acquaintances. Mostly from my acolyte years – there was a lot of traveling involved, but in Sunhame I had some fond memories of a particular blacksmith and sent a missive his way with Rodri’s name and a request to look out for him.”

“Why a blacksmith?” Anur asked, clearly puzzled.

“I worked in the forges, he allowed me to experiment with the flames in the relatively safe environment of his forge, in return I provided better temperature control than a bellows,” Kir replied with a smile; he hadn’t thought of Alexi in a long time, but once he’d thought of the man he hadn’t been able to write a letter to him fast enough. His experience with flames – and experimenting Firestarters – would be invaluable to Rodri, and having a place outside the Temple complex that was permitted, even _encouraged_ to visit once it became clear as to his purpose, had been invaluable to him when he was an initiate. Hopefully it wouldn’t be as essential to Rodri, but it would probably be nice to have.

“As he has orders from the Temple, he would be able to feasibly inquire after Firestarters that might need some practice and offer his forge, safer than anyone else would anyway. I asked that if he had the opportunity he look out for Rodri – the man’s a grandfather, he was hardly going to turn it down,” Kir shrugged, “Though I hadn’t heard back from him, not really safe – it is good to hear it actually worked out.”

“So a crew of Sunsguard, an exorcist and a blacksmith,” Anur ticked them off on his fingers, “How big is this network of yours? And how on earth do you have it, considering how isolated you were? Are, I guess.”

Anur mumbled the last and Kir offered him a small smile to assure him no offense was taken, as it was true, before he answered, “The majority are the Sunsguard transferred out and retired over the past year. The blacksmith, a family running a _prodka_ distillery and a horse-trader are the only ones outside of Loshern that I actually wrote to. If I could reach out to some other chaplains, that would be ideal, but unfortunately I don’t see it happening – for multiple reasons.”

“Well and there’s those foresters now, they might contact us if they need anything,” Anur pointed out, “And Synia and Malak certainly would after the help you gave them!”

Kir blinked, momentarily stunned. It hadn’t occurred to him that the people he encountered on their various missions would possibly remember him as someone who might be able to help – remember him as anything other than that Firestarter that blazed through and righted things.

Actually, he hadn’t anticipated being remembered as the one who _righted_ things either, it worked out better when he kept his expectations low.

But maybe these runs to investigate people for Solaris and the various side-adventures that happened along with would pay off in more than just their revolutionary efforts.

Maybe someday, people really _would_ no longer shy away from his robes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little short background/follow-up chapter. Hope to get the next installments done before Christmas but am traveling so no promises.


	17. Man Down

It was the beginning of autumn, just cooling down enough that fighting in full armor wasn’t an immediate request for heat-stroke.

Given the sheer volume of enemies available at the moment, that was a very good thing.

The entire fight was too messy for him to use mass Firestarting against the bandits anymore, it was all he could do to snag individuals from the crowd and set them alight – even then he had to tamp down on the flames quickly so no Karsites were burned by the contact. Anur was having more luck, firing arrows at bandits and using his Fetching Gift to keep them from dodging or at least keep the arrows from striking their own.

“They’re getting clever,” Kir said grimly, Anur nodding and replying, “Clever and desperate – this is at least two separate bands that have allied together to come after us.”

It had been an ambush – ambushing an ambush in this case, as the initial plan had been to come down on a bandit group that the Valdemarans were herding, but before that group even came into hearing distance they were attacked by these two. Kir wouldn’t be surprised to find that the Valdemarans ran into similar difficulties. It was, in some ways, to be expected – it had been more than long enough since this alliance got off the ground for the bandits to realize that something weird was going on between the bandit hunting units of enemy nations.

“Man down,” Anur said, firing an arrow off while Aelius and Kir went after it. The arrow twisted impossibly and landed in the throat of a bandit about to stomp down on a Sunsguard, the man’s partner occupied with another bandit pair.

“Burn!” Kir hissed, both of them igniting and the Sunsguard immediately taking a step back and swinging his sword around to block a different blow. Kir dropped to one knee beside the wounded guardsman, quickly establishing his injuries – a kicked in knee, various cuts but none serious, currently unconscious either from pain or a blow to the head. No swelling or problems with the neck or back that he could find.

An equine squeal of rage interrupted his assessment, the unmistakable chiming squelch of a witch-horse stomping someone into the ground following. “Witch-horse!” he barked, pulling the injured man up over his shoulder and lashing out with a whip of fire while he was at it, driving back a bandit that had made it through to them.

The blood-stained false-paint crashed down on a downed bandit’s chest one more time before spinning a kick into another and dodging over to Kir, a peculiar shrugging motion helping get the injured Sunsguard onto his back. They had found the best part about having the witch-horse here was that he could keep unconscious people on his back, making battlefield evacuations much easier.

Once the man was balanced, Aelius tossed his head and charged through, Kir sending a blast of fire to precede him and clear the path a bit, ducking under a mace-blow and slamming his knives home to nestle in the man’s ribs – shoddy chain-mail. Anur soon arrived in a whirl of steel and mysteriously deflected blows, Kir welcoming him with a red-hot dagger past his face into a less-perturbed bandit’s eye-socket.

Their usual strategy – to come in, evacuate the injured, and fight their way out – wasn’t working this time. They were hemmed in by mixed Karsites and bandits due to sheer numbers, making clearing a path via flame risky to his own people; there had been more than enough problems with the unit without him actually setting any of them on fire, so he was eager to avoid anything of that sort.

Anur ducked under a wild swing and Kir quickly lit that particular bandit on fire – having a definite target in close proximity made it much easier to ensure that he only burnt that individual.

It also made it easier to simply burn some vital organs, rather than external flames that could burn somebody else. Which, in turn, was more unnerving for the enemy, seeing their comrades drop dead without any visible wounds or fires. They all fed into each other nicely, but remaining stuck in close-quarters fighting was still not preferable.

Kir stooped to pull his knife out of the dead bandit’s eye, coming up under another’s guard to ram the blade under his chest-plate and into his gut, dropping him to the ground with a casual twist of his mind ensuring he stayed down, heart ash in his chest. Noting a partnerless Sunsguard a few clashes over, he started weaving through only to reach him just as the man collapsed with a cry of pain.

“On it!” Anur called, slamming through behind him to cover while Kir dropped down to check on the man – Anur’s call meant both that he was there to watch Kir’s back and that he was contacting Aelius to bring him back for another evacuation.

Kir checked the man for spinal injuries before rolling the groaning man onto his back – unfamiliar face, a new arrival then – they’d just gotten another fresh batch at midsummer, a week after the whole forest fire incident. They’d had another introductory raid where Kir and Anur had been carefully absent, and it had, again, gone reasonably well.

Which made the knife slipping through his ribs such a shock.

Hand reaching up to his left side, he could feel his fingers trembling as he touched the blade – a simple dagger, he recognized absently, one of a hundred in the armory at the unit, marked with a carved sun emblem right above the hilt – finely sharpened, as it should be. Well tended to – he hadn’t even felt the cut. Not until he struggled to breathe, felt the blood soak into his shirt –

To think. He was eliminated on the battlefield _now_ , when he had thought he was safe from that in-house treachery.

Terrified brown eyes stared up at him, Kir bracing himself and hearing Anur demand over his shoulder, “Kir?!”

If they found a dagger like this, one that was clearly Sunsguard made, the unit would tear itself apart, tear this _boy_ apart and knife in his lung aside, all he could see as he looked down at him was Lief Gero _(and all fourteen others)_ , the conscript he’d murdered for expedience.

If this was the price of that ( _those_ ) crime, he would gladly pay it.

“Kir!” the shout was more urgent and much closer; he had realized something was wrong. The time within which to act was narrowing.

The blade slid out easily, falling from blood-slick fingers to the ground and he clamped his hand down on his side, sealing the surface blood-vessels with a flare of heat. He didn’t dare perform a full cauterization – not with his lung open and sucking.

“Kir!” Anur was kneeling beside him, eyes wide and face pale, “Kir what - !”

He didn’t hear the rest. He couldn’t breathe.

_Vkandis, Sunlord, keep them safe, keep the alliance strong, do not let this end in blood and fire, not for them –_

As Kir collapsed, blood-slick hand still tight to his side, Anur was quite calmly descending into a berserker rage.

 _Kir is injured,_ he acknowledged mentally, sword in hand as he rose to his feet.

 _Kir could die,_ he snarled, throwing himself forward to stand over his friend and guard his fallen form.

_I will kill them!_

“AELIUS!” he screamed, mental voice howling his Companion’s name into their bond, drawing the eye of every man who could spare a glance and he could _feel_ when the Sunsguard noted the red-robed menace sprawled oh so damnably _still_ at his feet because there was a brief moment of utter shock – complete this has not happened this is not possible – before every blessed member of the 62nd _howled_ their indignation to the heavens, _bellowed_ their rage as they slammed into the enemy with all the force of Vkandis’ Furies.

Because Kir had gone down on the field.

And that was Not Acceptable.

Equine screams of rage echoed, Riva and Aelius both crashing through fights and bodies to get to him, forming a whirling barrier of four-legged death – they fought with all the skill of the Ashkevron battlesteeds, and at this point Anur didn’t even _care_ that Riva shouldn’t be able to do that. Why the hell _wouldn’t_ he be able to do that, his rider was _down_.

And if there was confusion, if there was a quiet piece of his mind that wondered how Kir had been injured like _that_ while he was on his knees tending a wounded Sunsguard, how a bandit had gotten in to stab him and then _out again_ without him or any other Sunsguard nearby noticing – he ignored it.

For now.


	18. Walking Wounded

“Holy shit,” Anders muttered, staring over the bloody field they had run to.

They had been ambushed on their herding run, well before they’d been set to meet the 62nd. Between Naomi and Anders they were able to rework the plan to keep their losses down, but they hadn’t been able to spare much more than an absent thought for their allies that were probably in a similar mess further south.

That supposition had only been confirmed when, just as they had routed the last of the bastards, an echoing scream reached them that sounded utterly impossible from an equine throat but, nonetheless, came from a Companion.

They had learned such _fascinating_ things thanks to Ancar.

Needless to say, _their Herald_ needed them so Naomi had no shortage of volunteers, even some of the walking-wounded pulling themselves onto horses so they could ride out to find the 62nd and see how they could help.

They arrived just in time to see their routed bandits run into _more_ routed bandits and then die in the flurry of confused slaughter and mayhem that resulted from four different armed groups colliding with each other unexpectedly.

It hadn’t been far to the main body of the 62nd’s ambush, so Naomi had decided to consult with Ulrich as to what they were doing next and what sort of aid they could offer each other – her barracks were a couple days ride away, they were a solid day’s ride into Karse at this point, and that combined with her injured made things complicated.

What made things _more_ complicated was the fact that she had forgotten how utterly terrifying it was to fight people filled with religious fervor. And this wasn’t just religious fervor; she wrinkled her nose at one particularly dead bandit (needless to say, there was excessive violence involved) this was a vicious sort of _anger_ that she half-recognized. It resembled, very greatly, the bloody swath cut by those suicidal soldiers the Rethwallen prince had dragged out of Hardorn.

Which, she had heard, resembled, very greatly, the aftermath of the final battle of the Tedrel Wars, when King Sendar was killed on the field.

The question of just who had prompted such a mass berserk rage was rather easily answered, as Captain Ulrich was standing next to an impossible to miss figure lying very unnervingly still on the ground, the Senior Lieutenant corpsman she had met once kneeling next to him and very clearly using some… _creative_ field medicine techniques.

Well, shit.

“Captain Naomi,” her Karsite counterpart greeted with a calm nod, “I suppose you faced an ambush also?”

“Seems all the bastards banded together this once,” she agreed, “Must say I’m ashamed we didn’t think they’d come up with it. They’re not _stupid_ after all.”

“No, they’re not. Cornered rats can be vicious, dangerous things,” he replied, politely holding her horse while she dismounted – entirely unnecessary, but what she had come to recognize as common courtesy from him. He’d done it to Anders once too, so it _wasn’t_ just her gender – she had been ready to be offended before that.

“I propose we extend our usual aid agreement,” she said, glancing briefly to the too-pale face of the Sunpriest and the grimly blank expression on the Herald’s. “We are only a few ridges north, and two days out from our own barracks, making our wounded… difficult to transport.”

“We are less than one day from our own. Between the horses from both our units, litters for the worst should be manageable, particularly if runners are sent to fetch extra supplies for constructing them,” Ulrich said, eyes narrowing as he looked past her, before he barked, “Sergeant Greich!”

Ah – the infamous Sergeant, she’d meet him at last.

He was to type, she was unsurprised to find. A grizzled old soldier that knew more about keeping stupid young officers alive and their units functioning relatively smoothly than said stupid young officers would ever learn. She had learned a lot from the first one she’d been assigned – losing him to a bad arrow shot had been like losing her right hand.

“Captain?” the man said shortly, bandaging around his arm neat and self-done by the angles.

“We’re taking the wounded from both our groups to the 62nd. Do you have medics?” he turned the question to Naomi, who nodded shortly and said, “Basic corpsmen, yes. No full healers.”

The blank looks both Karsites turned to her reminded her that here, there were no healers.

Which put an entirely new twist on the lung-pierced priest. He was a younger man, strong and healthy from what she knew, and Janner seemed competent. It was entirely possible he would survive without a healer’s interference.

But likely?

She didn’t know.

The problem stewed in the back of her mind the rest of the day – and what a day it was. Started with a good plan, made lively with an ambush gone wrong, concluded with settling the last of their wounded – this one a young man with a broken leg – into beds in Karsite barracks.

There were too many wounded between the two units for the infirmary – that hallowed ground was left for the most seriously wounded, one of which was the priest. He hadn’t regained consciousness, and the Herald hadn’t moved from his side. She didn’t blame him. She’d gotten a decent look at the field around the priest, and there hadn’t been a bandit within striking range of him.

The only one that could have given that sort of a cut was the Sunsguard boy he’d been collapsed on, injuries relatively minor.

Given the way everyone had gone utterly berserk at the knowledge their priest had fallen, she wouldn’t doubt he was very _carefully_ reconsidering his notion that arranging for a convenient ‘accident’ was for the unit’s and his own personal benefit. Given the way this threatened the whole alliance, she wasn’t particularly concerned about the boy’s fate.

Though, she thought sourly, watching one of her herbally inclined soldiers poke at a bandaging job and start the struggle to communicate, depending on how this worked out, she might have to arrange a little _accident_ herself.

It’d been a while since she’d done a job for the Lord Marshal, but she was certain she remembered some of the more useful tricks.

Seeing that everyone here was settled and no one seemed inclined to declare Holy War, she left them to it and went off to find Ulrich. If he was expecting any inspectors or messengers or absolutely anyone at all anytime soon, this could end very badly.

It wasn’t like they could really _hide_ far too many horses and blue uniforms scattered all over as they piled together to find rooms. At least there were a surprising number of Sunsguard that spoke basic Valdemaran – she wouldn’t be surprised to find some impromptu card games breaking out tonight in the barracks they were all crammed into, sharing beds and floor space was the least of it, given how many beds had been given up for the wounded.

As much as this would undoubtedly benefit their little arrangement, it put it to near unthinkable risk.

And if that priest died, the Herald would undoubtedly murder the Sunsguard responsible, and depending on response this entire disaster would end in just that, a disaster. She’d put in way too much work and spent way too much time worrying about this damn thing to have it end now.

“Captain Ulrich,” she said shortly, stepping up to the man who had just finished delegating duties to get people settled and split into clean-up groups – idle hands were demons tools, as they said in Valdemar.

“Captain Naomi,” he replied, “Is there a problem settling the wounded?”

“No problem at all. Have there been any difficulties with the battlefield clean-up group?”

“None reported yet.”

“Good,” she grimaced, before casting a glance towards the infirmary and asking in a low voice, “Listen, you know what our healers can do, right? Sometimes?”

“Rumors, nothing more,” Ulrich demurred, but his eyes gleamed with interest. He wanted that rumor to be true then, and wanted it to be brought to _him_. Understandable.

“Well, if it won’t jeopardize anything – I might be able to bring one or two here. Probably just one, it’s a hell of a risk. But the way I see it – if that priest dies this whole thing might not fall apart, but it’ll be damned strained. And I like the kid.”

“I… am rather fond of him as well,” Ulrich shook his head, “A replacement would be unthinkable. And probably die very quickly.” A disquieted look crossed his face before settling back into blandness. Naomi caught it though, and knew he’d seen it too.

“So the bandit responsible wasn’t moved and beaten beyond recognition,” Naomi said, feeling inexplicably cold. “I had hoped.”

“Unfortunately, no,” Ulrich said in quiet response, “But there is no proof.”

“Just musings,” she agreed, internally swearing. This was a cursed mess, and that stupid _child_ of a Sunsguard better be _damned grateful_ that there wasn’t any proof or there wouldn’t be enough of him left to smear as paste on the floor. “Anyway,” she continued, “Back to the healers – I’d be gone for five days or so, if I left Lieutenant Corinth here to coordinate with you, would it be doable?”

“It would,” Ulrich agreed, “But I would consult with the Enforcer first, he may have other means.”

She could agree with that, and she’d need an accurate summary of the worst injuries anyway in order to call in the right sort of healer. With that in mind, she followed him to the infirmary and found the Herald helping Lieutenant Janner attend to the rest of the wounded, groans of pain and the smell of blood permeating everything.

Judging by the grim-faced Sunsguard sitting at Father Kir’s bedside, knife in hand, it wasn’t just the officers that had noticed something odd.

Fuck, if he died they’d probably kill the kid no matter what.

Hells, even if he woke up – they’d probably still kill the kid, unless Dinesh stopped them.

And knives didn’t just _fall out_ of those sorts of injuries. He’d pulled it out himself in all likelihood, which meant that lingering uncertainty was the priest’s _intent_. Which meant he didn’t _want_ the kid dead.

It was all just a thrice-cursed mess. She hated people.

“Captains,” the Herald stood, looking at them with a placidly calm expression. Between that expression, his level tone, and the lurking fury in his eyes, Naomi was inclined to agree with Anders’ assessment that Heralds could be damn scary.

What was it that Karsite scout had said?

Oh yes – _and you idiots love them for it_.

“I have a debt owed to me by a healer along the south,” she said bluntly, and in Valdemaran in the hopes they would at least _pretend_ not to be able to understand her. “I’m going to call it in and see if he can help. I could use a summary of the worst injuries so I know what to tell him.”

“Corporal!” the Senior Lieutenant barked in Karsite, “Get her a copy of the list, now!”

So much for that.

“Take Aelius and Riva,” the Herald said shortly, ignoring the corporal in question who soon arrived at her elbow with a scribbled list – barely legible, but she could work with it. “They can keep decent pace.”

Was it wrong that the little girl who’d dreamed of being a Herald that still lurked somewhere in her soul was squealing in glee as she tucked the list away, exchanged respectful nods with her fellow captain, and headed for chiming hooves?

Probably – but she’d take what enjoyment she could get!

***===***pagebreak***===***

Guiding the Companion with the reins, she turned him away from the main road, not needing the brief hesitation to know that she was no longer heading towards a House of Healing. Her debts didn’t reside there.

Joss, a Healer just barely old enough to be her father, was an old friend from her time in the Marshal’s service and had seen and fixed more serious injuries than anyone she’d ever met barring the near legendary Healer Crathach. If anyone could save a few day old lung-piercing he could.

And if he couldn’t he had a deft touch when it came to calming people down, which they would definitely need in any case, but more particularly in that most dire one.

“Coming!” she heard him holler as Aelius pounded down the lane towards the small cottage he called home– the chiming hooves were unmistakable after all.

“Where’s the emergen – Naomi?” he spluttered, flinging the door open with a satchel half-packed on the table behind him, “What are you – damn it! What sort of injuries!” he demanded, turning back to his pack and darting through cupboards.

“Worst one is a pierced lung,” she started, his muttered oaths remaining a constant as she read the rest of the list the corporal had handed her. The two days it took to get here had given her more than enough time to puzzle out the details of the man’s handwriting. Dismounting, she grabbed the Companion’s saddlebags and brought them in to help pack – he took care of the medicine, she grabbed things he’d forget otherwise, like extra small-clothes and a bedroll.

“Fuck,” he summarized, “Horse okay to ride?”

“Take the Companion, Aelius,” she replied. Joss was a good rider but the priest’s roan was cavalry trained, so she’d be better off with him. Also, Joss was considerably more valuable than she was right now – best put him with the one most likely to get him back safely.

“My thanks master Aelius,” Joss said courteously, scrawling a note to any who came looking and stabbing it onto the nail in his door. Naomi secured the saddlebags and he swung up onto the Companion’s back, the horses pounding back down the road soon after.

“Ancar?” he asked.

“Bandits,” she called back, before grinning at him, “And one hell of a situation. How’s your Karsite?”

“You’re kidding.”

Over the two days it took to return to the 62nd – four days, she didn’t want to think about the complications that could have happened in four days – she was able to explain the entire situation she was dragging him into. Everything she knew at least, and a bit that she suspected. Joss she could trust to keep things behind his teeth when people were on the line.

And there were quite a few people on the line with this one, she knew, hearing the alerts from the sentries and recognizing some failed gutterals as her people helping out. Well, at least things hadn’t entirely devolved in the time she’d been gone. Good.

Joss was off the Companion before Aelius had even stopped moving, sliding to a halt in front of the infirmary while Joss hit the door at a run, Naomi more gingerly following behind. Four days in a saddle weren’t unbearable, she’d done longer. But four days in the saddle at a speed she’d not even known was possible for a non-Companion to hit? She was stiff, to put it mildly.

Hostlers quickly arrived and by the time she actually got into the infirmary the two horses were being taken to the stables to be rubbed down and treated like royalty as they had damn well earned. She would trust that they knew how to treat a Companion, because she doubted Herald Anur would be moving from Father Kir’s side, if he even had in the four days she’d been gone.

Judging by the grim exhaustion lining his face and the bedroll on the ground by the priest’s side, she doubted it.

Joss was in his element, questioning the chief corpsman while steady hands poked and prodded at his patient, checking the verbal assessment against his own. Watching those two work Naomi felt something in her chest ease – they had things well in hand. Brisk tone and movements and orders for poultices and teas and things she didn’t even know were reassuring, because none of that was necessary if the patient couldn’t be saved.

Everyone else could see it too, and the tension in the room immediately dropped – and Captain Ulrich, out of breath from undoubtedly sprinting here, took one step into the infirmary and sagged against a wall, gratitude clear on his face. Naomi leaned back next to him and murmured in Karsite, “How are things holding up?”

“Amazingly well, all things considered,” he replied in kind, “There have been a few tense moments but with enough to keep them busy it’s worked. I’d recommend leaving with as many as can ride in two days or so – that’s as long as I can guarantee we won’t have visitors of our own.”

“Between our riders and litters we should be able to get everyone across the border,” she calculated, guesses as to recovery rates cranking away in her mind, “If we could borrow litters, of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated.

“Priest woken up at all while I was gone?” she asked, switching languages and keeping her voice down. Most of the focus was on the medic and healer – Joss was actually in the middle of a true healing now, and even Ulrich was keeping half an eye on that, an envious sort of wonder in his eyes. Shit, she could only imagine. They didn’t have healers on the front lines all the time, and in battlefield medicine those only healers could save sometimes (often) weren’t reached in time, but there was still the _option_ , the _hope_. To have heard those miracle healing stories and know that it was forever out of your reach?

It must burn something _fierce_.

“Yes,” he murmured back, taking her cue as to language again, “But no questions were answered as to the source. To hear him tell it he simply doesn’t remember.”

“And does he?” she asked.

“The pious answer is that priests do not lie,” Ulrich gave a wry twist of his lips, “The practical answer is that he is too good at it for me to tell. But he is also too observant for it to be truly believable. He’s protecting him, Vkandis knows why.”

“Probably thinks it’s some sort of penance,” Naomi hazarded. She may not know the priest particularly well or have spoken to him overmuch, but she knew the Herald and she knew the sorts of people Heralds were likely to befriend – put the idea of a moral person into the role of a witch-hunting priest and a guilt complex of some sort was almost guaranteed.

Add in a quiet _something_ that made the priest willing to risk the Herald and the Herald willing to risk them all in this bizarre cross-border unsanctioned infiltration but-not-really and there was no question about it.

Ulrich hesitated, before sighing, a peculiar look coming across his eyes. He had an idea what this was about then – not a knowledge, not a certainty, but an idea. Almost worse, to have an idea with no confirmation.

“Probably,” he agreed.

Joss’ hands left the priest’s side and a quiet awestruck oath from the Senior Lieutenant was all she needed to hear. The priest was going to live and this alliance was going to remain hale and strong if they had anything to say about it.

But for now, there was work to be done.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Kir woke up to a dark ceiling and easy breathing, at last. Carefully inhaling, he held his breath for a few moments before releasing it in a sigh of relief. The healer had made it then – he’d woken up a few times since his initial collapse, but had rather quickly forced himself back into blackness so he could avoid jarring his injuries with flinches and spasms of pain or coughs. Janner had done his best, and honestly he probably would have recovered without the Gifted healer, but it would have been a long and uncertain process.

Not something they could really afford right now. Now that his head was clear, that he’d had time to think – and had actual _rest_ induced by unconsciousness and uninterrupted by even half-remembered nightmares – he couldn’t understand _what_ he’d been thinking. The scene had been entirely too contrived – it would be far too easy for anyone, much less someone trained to keep their head like Anur was, to figure out that there hadn’t been any bandits in a position to injure him so badly.

For that matter, what the hells he had thought would happen to their arrangement if he’d actually died, he didn’t know. He’d prayed that the Sunlord would keep them together, and Anur would try his best, but if he had died than another chaplain would have been sent –

And that would have ended in nothing but flames and flight to Valdemar.

Sitting up, he winced and rested a hand on his ribs – there wasn’t any bandaging, but there was definitely soreness and tender skin. And if he wasn’t mistaken, a faint trace of his hand was left over the wound in subtle scar tissue.

Much better than he had been preparing himself for. The healers of Valdemar did good work.

“…Father Kir?”

Looking towards the bed next to him, he saw Balin sitting in a chair, bare blade across his legs and an achingly hopeful expression on his face.

“Balin,” he nodded, raising an eyebrow, “What are you doing?”

“Standing guard, sir.”

“Anur is injured?” Kir broke off his hunt for a shirt and stared at Balin in alarm (because who else would require a guard?), half-rising to his feet as he demanded, “Where is he? How bad?”

“He’s fine sir,” Balin reassured him, a bemused look on his face as Kir sat back down, momentary alarm leaving him exhausted. “I’m here to guard _you_.”

“Me?” Kir frowned, very careful to avoid anything that might even _hint_ that he understood why that sort of guard might be considered necessary. As he had suspected, it had been far too much to hope that no one would have figured out that something was odd about the circumstances of his injury. “Why would that be necessary?”

Balin just eyed him, clearly suspicious that his claims of not remembering who had injured him were fabrications, but unwilling to call him on it. Unfortunately, that unwillingness would undoubtedly not be enough to prevent people from acting on their reasonable suspicions. Damn and blast, he’d probably have to explicitly intervene.

“Just to be on the safe side, Holiness,” he replied quietly. “It is good to see you awake and well, sir.”

“It is good to be able to breathe again,” Kir smiled slightly, looking around at the other wounded and continuing lowly, “How many losses?”

“Five,” Balin whispered, “We haven’t built the pyres yet – we were going to do it tomorrow. With the Valdemaran’s healer there shouldn’t be any others being sent to Sunheart so no more reason to put it off. We wanted to wait for you sir, they would have – they would have wanted that. We thought.”

Kir rested a hand on the younger man’s knee, “I am honored,” he said quietly. “And I am… regretful. That the healer was sent for.”

“No!” Balin hissed, immediately understanding what he was regretful for, “No, sir. No one begrudges the fact that it was your injury that brought in the Valdemarans. _No one_. You’re the whole reason this thing was ever put into action – it’d fall apart without you so don’t you _dare_ feel guilty about being the primary reason Captain Mecal called in a debt!”

“I concur with Sescha’s demands,” a dry voice came from behind, “Though I would have preferred he kept his voice down.”

Kir looked over at Senior Lieutenant Janner, carrying a lantern and clearly only just risen from a much-needed rest, and winced, “My apologies for waking you, Senior Lieutenant.”

“Bah – he was supposed to wake me when you woke up anyway,” the man grumbled, dragging a chair over and dropping it beside his cot. “Sit up straight and breathe deeply for me. Go get the Enforcer, Second Scout Sescha - between Father Kir and I, I am certain we can deal with anyone with an incurable case of stupidity.”

Balin’s mouth snapped shut around his objection and he quickly rose to his feet and left, Janner continuing as he prodded at Kir’s former injury, “It is good to see you awake, Father Kir. That Enforcer of yours has been an utter terror to deal with. I finally had to blackmail him into resting somewhere besides the ground next to you with reinforcement from Healer Joss.”

The man sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly, shadows from the oil-and-mirror lantern aging him dramatically, “You’ll be fine. Take it easy for the most part – and avoid getting ill this winter, this has probably drastically increased your vulnerability to lung problems and pneumonia. So no patrols in freezing rain for days on end, if you please. As for Sescha’s louder-than-necessary demands – you will find it is a rather universal understanding.”

“If anything, they are blaming Sunhame for condemning witch-powers and not making healers available in Karse,” a familiar voice entered the low-toned conversation, Anur making his way over and dropping a bundle of clothes on the cot beside Kir before pulling him up into a fierce hug. “Damn it Kir,” he muttered into his ear, “I thought I lost you.”

Kir had nothing to say to that – he had honestly not expected to survive it either, so there was no claim of mock invulnerability he could make that wouldn’t ring false.

“Healers are not burned,” Kir murmured in return, “They are pulled into the priesthood and made near impossible to access, but not burned except for other causes.”

“Considering how seldom healing is a stand-alone Gift, that still almost amounts to the same thing,” Anur retorted, helping him sit back down (unnecessary) before stealing Balin’s seat.

“There is no reason for you to stay here,” Janner said at Kir’s look, clearly understanding the question behind his raised eyebrow. “Go ahead and get dressed and leave. But no dawn service! We’ve gone five days without, another won’t hurt any. _Rest_ , medic’s orders.”

“I’ll make sure,” Anur promised, the Senior Lieutenant nodding before gathering his lantern and heading back to his own bed and a few more hours’ rest.

Kir quickly changed into the clean clothes Anur had brought him, gathering his witch-horse Sun in Glory from the side-table before pulling on his boots and letting Anur help him stand. His wound was twinging as he moved, so undoubtedly he’d be dealing with aches and pains for a while yet, but nothing crippling.

Sunlord that this sort of treatment wasn’t available to the regular Sunsguard – it was disgusting. He knew of healers – those blessed by Vkandis with the ability to heal were locked away and treasured by the priesthood as concrete signs of Vkandis’ favor, available to the masses, at least in theory. In practice, with the layers of purification and tests for worthiness one had to get through to see such a healer few but the wealthy could see them.

After all, it was possible to bypass all manner of requirements with a bit of gold.

Following Anur out into the night, he looked up at the stars to check the time – just past midnight. Hopefully Anur wasn’t going to try and force him to sleep immediately, they needed to discuss things – and not just the presence of oddly uniformed soldiers standing on the walls.

A few noticed him and offered salutes or nods, which he returned with brief gestures of his own but he remained focused on the hovering Herald. “I’m not going to keel over,” Kir muttered as they entered the chapel, “Janner and that Healer Joss do good work.”

“Well excuse me for being mildly alarmed that in the past moons I’ve thought you were dead and gone _twice_ where I could do _nothing_ to help you!” Anur snarled, Kir glaring and snapping, “Yet I stand aside as you throw yourself in deadly situations and manage to avoid over-protective behavior just fine!”

They both glared at each other for a few moments more before Anur’s ire visibly drained away and left an exhausted shell in his place, “I’m sorry, Kir,” he mumbled, Kir dragging him into his arms and sighing as Anur buried his head in his shoulder, saying, “No, I apologize. That was uncalled for.”

The chapel was quiet except for their own breathing for a while, Kir taking the moment to pray, wooden Sun in Glory glowing warmly in the light of the Eternal Flame along the back wall. It was interrupted by a quiet yowl, a tortoise-shell cat trotting out of their quarters and weaving between their legs, Anur chuckling and pulling back so he could crouch down and pick the cat up in his arms, scratching it behind the ears, “Yes, yes, I’ll pay attention to you, greedy cat.”

Kir eyed the cat suspiciously - it had been an ongoing battle for over a _moon_ now to get Anur to leave the poor cat alone, and now the abducted mouser was friendly and cheerful?

Had someone replaced the cat?

He sighed, and then laughed, leaving the matter for later while the two of them resumed their path to their quarters, “You expect a cat to care we were having a moment? Please – the only moments that should arise must be in reference to the cat.”

“No, see Lavan’s a Heraldic Cat of Fire, he’s above such petty concerns,” Anur corrected with a sniff, “ _Our_ cat was simply worried that you had yet to return.”

Oh, so it was _their_ cat now? He didn’t think so.

“I doubt it,” Kir chuckled instead, bumping shoulders with his friend as they both stretched out on the bed they’d been sharing since Anur had become a permanent resident – it had taken a few days to dig a cot out of storage when he’d first shown up, and at that point they were used to it again. Why bother? Anur had yet to actually hit him when he contorted himself in his sleep and Kir didn’t take up much space at all, so it worked out.

Lavan’s purr (definitely a different cat) was a soothing rumble as they stared at the ceiling in comfortable silence, before Kir finally broke it, asking quietly, “And the conscript?”

“Still alive,” Anur replied, a dark undertone nonetheless, “I assume then, that the uncertainty was on purpose?”

“He was scared,” Kir whispered, “He was scared and he thought he was helping. I don’t want him executed for mistaking this unit for any other. He doesn’t deserve that. He was just scared.”

“He was _stupid_!” Anur hissed, anger obviously reigniting, “How the hell did he think the Valdemaran cooperation was working?”

“Without my knowledge, probably. We’ve been careful to avoid going on the first mission with any new batch – this is the third such. Anur it’s entirely possible he was under the impression that it was being kept a secret from us,” Kir explained, trying to calm him down. He’d had some time to think about this after all.

“Because he’s a freaking _idiot_ ,” Anur growled, but subsided.

Kir just waited, and was rewarded with Anur’s explosive sigh, “I suppose you want me to help convince people not to arrange for convenient accidents?”

“That would be appreciated,” Kir said, keeping his tone mild but knowing that Anur would hear the deep gratitude in the sentence. Gero still did and always would haunt him; he did not want an additional death on his hands.

“Well then, young Private Nichter had better be damn grateful,” Anur growled, “Because there was one hell of a line to arrange things and _I_ had dibs.”

And as much as he didn’t want the conscript dead, as grateful as he was that Anur would help him keep the boy safe from accidents, it was rather touching that there were a number of people that would have avenged his death or wrongful injuring. Things truly had changed.

***===***pagebreak***===***

“So we’re just letting him get away with it?” Galen asked flatly, crossing his arms and staring Anur and Greich down. They’d pulled the two aside right after the Valdemarans had left, Healer Joss going with them. The farewells had been remarkably friendly – and while some of that Anur would attribute to gratitude for bringing Healer Joss in, most of it he thought was a natural progression of their now multi-year alliance arrangement.

He wouldn’t be surprised to be handing more than just his and Kir’s letters to Captain Naomi for distribution soon. Against all odds, this was seriously _working_.

But at the twins’ understandable anger, which he, honestly, shared, Anur just sighed, while the Sergeant scowled and demanded, “Do you want the priest counting another idiot among the dead staining his hands? Because he _will_ blame himself.”

The twins both growled at that, before subsiding and finally Balin nodded, saying shortly, “Fine. We’ll take care of things on the lower end. Up to you to deal with the officers, and they’re _not_ happy. They _know_ we have it damn good here.”

Anur sighed again as the two walked away, eyeing Greich ruefully, “I could strangle Kir’s guilt complex right about now.”

The Sergeant grumbled agreement and they went to find the next targets.

Needless to say, Nichter may not be killed, but he wasn’t going to be having a very smooth time of it for a while.

Served him right.

Janner, one of three officers they’d dragged aside to explain things to, nodded and said, “I expected as much. Knives don’t just fall out of those sorts of wounds – he pulled it out on purpose. But it’s not going to be easy to arrange that.”

“It’s going to be ugly,” Nakel agreed. While he was the official second-in-command of the unit, it was understood that Sergeant Greich was truly Ulrich’s right hand, and that if something _did_ happen to Ulrich, he would fill a similar role for the new commander. As it was, Nakel managed much of the day-to-day and their dealings with the 103rd, especially now that Ulrich was personally meeting and arranging things with Captain Naomi.

“I don’t want the priest here,” Lieutenant Cricten, Devek’s replacement through promotion and an oddly dour man, said bluntly. “For one, he’s just recovered from a lung-wound. It’s a blessed miracle he lasted until that Healer got here and that the man actually was able to help. That’s not something we want to stress. For another, if we can’t straighten this out and manage the fall out without him staring over our shoulders the entire time, the moment he’s gone someone we missed straightening out will act. They’ll defer their actions until he’s gone out of respect, as they damn well should, but they’d act.”

“I agree,” Janner said, “More for the health perspective than the other – the first two weeks will be critical and I honestly don’t think this would be a very restful environment for anyone, much less him. He refuses to _rest_ when he could be giving a service or something.”

“I know,” Anur said sourly, “I’ve been the one pestering him. You all agree then, he should take leave – and actually _leave_?”

The three officers exchanged glances and nodded, “Agreed.”

“Right, we’ll go present it to the Captain,” Greich finally spoke up, rising to his feet and leading the way out. Meanwhile, Anur was patting himself on the back for sending those letters with the Valdemarans. Things had worked out just like he’d wanted and he hadn’t even needed to suggest the idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Naomi is an ex-secret agent... who knew? I certainly didn't until this chapter popped up. Yeah surprising OCs!
> 
> Hope all the reactions and perspectives are believable.
> 
> As for the cat... s/he just popped up (replaced cat? What? The twins would never do such a thing...)


	19. Letters to the Bellamys

**20th Year of Selenay’s Reign, Midsummer**

_Dear family,_

_I’m alive, so is Kir. We had a bit of an adventure with ghosts and soul-eating monsters, but he set them on fire and sent them onward, and we’re just fine. No injuries to speak of. Hope you are all well._

_Love, Anur_

 

_To the Bellamy Family,_

_Anur asked me if I wanted to add a post-script. It seems instead I will be writing the entire letter, because that was the saddest letter I’ve seen in a long time._

_The incident he refers to was due to Hardornen blood-magic, it poisoned the headwaters of a stream one of our own villages depends upon and there were_ lothga _drawn in, along with the spirits of the soldiers Ancar enslaved. As Anur said, the situation was resolved with no injuries._

_He is spending an increased amount of time in Karse right now, something about at least knowing most people here are trying to kill him – the idiot. You have my word that he will get out of here safely and soundly if I have to set half the countryside on fire to make that happen._

_He’s getting along rather well with two twins in my unit, and I will try to ensure he keeps Aelius’ disguise on one of his ventures north to visit you – I’m quite proud of it. Blasted glowing white horse looks like an everyday paint – good conformation of course, can’t hide that, but at least not glowing white anymore._

_I don’t know if he mentioned the Rethwallen army affair to you? Well the army apparently decided that marching across Karse was a good idea – made it through, thankfully, and that particular invasion was headed off. I’m certain you’ve heard the news on that front more than we have, Anur very intentionally stays out of the loop insofar as Heraldic gossip goes – surprising considering how much he likes to tell stories._

_Do pass on my greetings to everyone, particularly Mara, Marko and Joseph. I hope they haven’t managed to set anything on fire in pursuit of Firestarting, if they’re even still obsessed with that particular witch-power._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir Dinesh_

**20th Year of Selenay’s Reign, Autumnal Equinox**

_Dearest family,_

_Attached is a recipe for the best cake ever. I don’t know how many of the spices are actually available in Valdemar, but keep your eyes out. It’s amazing._

_Does Lilah have a date set for her wedding yet? Letters to me can reach me through Captain Naomi Mecal of the 76th Cavalry._

_No real excitement – met an exorcist though, that was kind of cool! Do you know any stories about demonic possession or possession in general? I know what it is (and now know way more than I wanted to) but don’t remember any stories or sagas – just a general concept._

_Love, Anur_

 

_Bellamy Family,_

_He is getting better, at least. Three whole paragraphs before handing the letter off to me. The exorcist he is referring to was a minor confrontation, nothing dramatic or particularly worrying. We simply exchanged favors as he didn’t like dealing with the Sunsguard and I despise dealing with Sunhame – it worked out rather nicely._

_Pass on both our thanks to the children for their assistance in helping him with fetching last winter – he’s gotten quite good at throwing knives with it and is currently making some serious progress on arrow-guiding._

_I’m afraid that’s all the news I have for you. I hope all is well with you and your family._

_Actually – have you noticed any strange weather-patterns? They are getting worse in Karse and it is a side-effect of blood-magic being nearby. We haven’t heard anything about it in Valdemar and wondered if that held true further from the border as well._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir Dinesh_

**20th Year of Selenay’s Reign, Midwinter**

_Happy Midwinter family!_

_Sorry we weren’t able to visit this year, but Griffon kindly agreed to carry gifts for us! They’re all joint gifts, we got something for everybody and the cake is to share – it’s that recipe I sent last time and it’s amazing! Try some right away!_

_Lilah, I’m sorry to hear you had to delay the wedding for Pascal’s service to finish out – but just think about all the fun it’ll be!_

_Oh, and Griffon has agreed to reenact the battle-scene with monster slaying, but needs snow monsters to work with. The kids will also need to simulate arrow fire and such with snowballs. Thank Mara for the drawings and tell the boys thanks for the scorched kerchiefs, I guess._

_Love, Anur_

 

_Bellamys,_

_Ignore that last, Griffon agreed to no such thing. I doubt he would object, exactly, but it was not in the agreement for delivery when made. Mara’s Sun-in-Glory was impressively symmetrical – thank you Mara, it’s lovely, though for future reference most Sun-in-Glories are warmer tones, reds and oranges and such, rather than whites and blues. But I love it, it matches the one I wear nicely._

_And boys, stop trying to set your mother’s work on fire. Set scraps she no longer wants on fire, not good fabric. Or stop setting things on fire all together – if you can’t do it mentally by now, I’m sorry to say you probably are not Firestarters. Ask Griffon, he would be able to tell you._

_Thank you for the update regarding the weather, as well. Unfortunately I don’t think it will last – for now the weather is odd, but seasonable. Unseasonable weather will be the next stage for Karse and Valdemar will doubtless get there soon enough if Ancar is not stopped. I don’t know what can be done for it, but I would like to pass on the warning – unseasonable weather could be disastrous for crops._

_Not much more to say from down south, I’m afraid. I hope the gifts work out, pass on my best to everyone and a happy and blessed Midwinter._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir Dinesh_

****

**1st Year of Selenay and Darenthalis' Reign, Vernal Moon**

_Blood mages are horrible, awful wretches and I hope they all die. If you can get word to Pascal – it’s a mercy to kill those soldiers quickly. It truly is. Mother, thank you for the gloves, especially since they’re in reds! I didn’t have any warm Karse-friendly gloves. The ones I managed to get from the 62nd are serviceable, but nowhere near as toasty as yours._

_I’m spending a lot of time in Karse now – I don’t know how reliable my replies and such will be, but Kir’s not going to let me forget to write for years again, I promise. And I probably won’t forget either – I just… I didn’t want to do anything except work. And when I stopped working I started thinking and I didn’t want to._

_So I’m sorry, for worrying you all those years._

_Love, Anur_

 

_Bellamys,_

_The not wanting to think business has been dealt with at least in part. I’m afraid some of it will have to wait until he is able to discuss things with a particular fellow Herald who is most often in the capital._

_All is rather quiet on this front. Bandits aren’t giving too much trouble, nor are Hardornen regulars in our region. It’s rather nice. Anur has been accompanying me on investigations within Karse, but I assure you he’s as safe as possible and no one has suspected his origins._

_As for Jana’s questions (the wording was a little sophisticated for a four-year-old, keep that in mind for future efforts) my family were fishers and sailors, yes. That is where and why I learned knotwork. Making Sun in Glory medallions like the one I wear were easy enough to justify as a prayer meditation rather than as a memory of my family, so it was not forbidden._

_The Feast of the Children occurs every harvest and originally served as a coming of age ceremony where a childhood relic (a toy of some sort most of the time) was burned to symbolize the child’s maturity. This only occurred for the thirteen year olds. It has, obviously, warped. From the age of five to the age of thirteen children are inspected for induction into the priesthood and witch-powers, called Gifts._

_I would appreciate it if some of that was kept from the children, thank you._

_Now for the questions I’m more willing to bet actually came from the children – no, Karsite girls are not allowed to learn to become soldiers, and yes, that is silly. I think your mother would prefer if you didn’t decide to become a soldier this early – you have plenty of time to think about things and being a soldier isn’t the only way to help people._

_There is a temple for Vkandis in Haven, called the Temple for the Lord of Light. However, there are no Firestarters there and no, there are no miracle magic tricks that you could learn to become a Firestarter by becoming a priest. Either you have the Gift or you do not, I’m afraid._

_Thank you for these letters. It is nice, to have someone to write to._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir Dinesh_

**1st Year of Selenay and Darenthalis' Reign, Midsummer**

_Dear family,_

_Sorry for the long gap. I didn’t forget, I promise, we just got really busy. We ended up covering for some kids that were running – and yes, we made sure they got across the border. Anyway, Kir and I now have a cat! He’s a cool tortoise-shell and I’ve named him Lavan. Kir can also make cats out of fire, hence the name._

_I’m glad to hear Pascal was able to get a few months leave this spring, congratulations on your marriage Lilah! I’m sorry we weren’t able to come._

_We’re heading out towards the Comb next, some trouble is nesting up there apparently._

_Love, Anur_

 

_Bellamys,_

_My congratulations as well, Lilah. Hopefully we will be able to visit this winter, but I’m afraid there can be no promises. As Anur mentioned, things are tense down here and we need all hands – he refuses to leave when we’re not able to take a break as well. A kind gesture, but personally I think he should go and visit family while he can._

_He did a reasonable job covering the essentials this time, and I’m afraid we’re going to be departing soon for the Comb so I must conclude._

_Vkandis bless and guide,_

_Kir Dinesh_

**1st Year of Selenay and Darenthalis' Reign, Late Summer**

_Dear family,_

_I don’t know when exactly, but somehow my life has become a bardic saga. While we were in the Comb there was a forest fire that we went to help with – evacuations mostly. Kir went off to stop the flames from getting the foresters that had been trying to make a firebreak and got cut off from everyone and then managed to put out the_ whole _fire with some assistance from Lavan Firestorm._

_That’s right, the ghost of Lavan Firestorm and his Companion Kalira came to help end the fire and get Kir out of there. How is this my life?_

_Ghosts, creepy soul-sucking monsters, exorcists (anything on those stories, ma?) and witach – this is ridiculous. Really._

_Love, Anur_

 

_Bellamys,_

_Anur is writing this – shut up, they’ll see your handwriting – did you just write that down? Herald!_

_Fine. Anur is writing this because looking at written word makes my head feel like it’s going to explode. The forest fire he’s referencing was one monster of one and I have a vicious headache and have had one for the past few days. At least I can move without wanting to vomit now._

_I, for one, was unaware of the fact that our cat is named after a_ Herald _, much less_ that Herald, _I don’t know what he was thinking – really? Anur, Lavan Firestorm is famous for setting an_ entire Karsite army _on fire, of course we know who he is, we just don’t know his first name! Stop writing every word I say – fine. Fine. I give up._

_Everyone made it out of the fire fine, there were a few foresters lost but given the size of the fire it was startlingly few. As for – I’m sorry, I can’t think anymore. Ugh. My head._

_Love (that’s what he means by Vkandis bless and guide, you know it!)_

_Kir (why he always puts his last name_ I’ll _never know)_

_If it weren’t too painful, I’d rewrite this. I hate you, Herald. – Kir_

 

**1st Year of Selenay and Darenthalis' Reign, Harvest Moon**

_Dear family,_

_We’re coming home._

_Love,_

_Anur_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY ANNIVERSARY READERS!!!
> 
> Yep - it's been a WHOLE YEAR since I started this series while listening to Baby It's Cold Outside after a Valdemar binge session. Have to say, this would never have gone past a one-shot without you readers - seriously, you guys are amazing and your kudos and comments and reviews and critiques are just mind-blowing to me, that something I wrote could prompt this kind of response and enthusiasm in readership.
> 
> So thanks, guys. It's been awesome, and here's to even more epic bromantic adventures with Kir and Anur (and Aelius, and that mysteriously badass horse Riva)! Hope these three chapters do the series justice.


	20. There's No One True Way

“Thanks for the help today, Kir – I didn’t know Firestarting could do that!” Jer grinned, clapping him on the shoulder as they exited the smithy, “Made things much faster with that kind of temperature control!”

“How I learned in the first place,” Kir shrugged, a small smile on his face, “Forges are a little safer for messing with flames than most places, after all.”

“Very true,” Jer agreed, intercepting a running Marko with an arm across his chest, “What have we said about tackling Kir, Marko?”

“Not to,” the boy sighed, “But he says he’s fine!”

“Hmm. So you want to explain to your Uncle Anur why Kir winces when he breathes?” Jer raised an eyebrow and his son deflated, mumbling denials. Kir laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair, saying, “Sorry about that Marko, but Anur is overprotective.”

“And rightly so!” Anur insisted, walking down the street with Joseph tagging along behind him, carrying the food they’d been sent for. The family was meeting at Jer and Ayla’s for dinner tonight, they’d been switching homes within Lisle for the past few days, while Jana and Kyle would be arriving tomorrow, Mara in tow.

“Any headache?” he asked, falling into step beside him while Jer took over with his sons, asking about how their days had gone – Marko had just started an apprenticeship with the miller, heirless, and Joseph had decided to work with bees like his grandfather.

“None,” Kir informed him, smiling, “It’s getting much easier, it was just a matter of details – not having to worry about igniting the surroundings by radiating heat also made it easier to practice. By the time we leave, the Cat of Fire should give me no trouble at all, though I hope we won’t have to use it again. I don’t like it.”

“I know,” Anur winced, “And I’m sorry. But it did a good thing, that time.”

“It did,” Kir agreed, “It was… necessary. But I don’t want it to ever become a quick solution – even using it to get them to trust the twins seemed… wrong.”

“Then we only use it if an innocent life is immediately in danger,” Anur suggested, shrugging, “Not for any investigation, or interrogation, or anything like that. Just with kids, and only if it’s truly immediate.”

“That – that should work,” Kir sighed, gaze still distant, and Anur watched him with worry. It wasn’t as bad as the last time he’d dragged Kir home – nothing with the scale of Gero had occurred, he _knew_ that. But there had been a lot of little things – and even Gero’s death hadn’t truly been resolved, only justified with a promise not to wallow.

He knew how to discuss killing. In theory, he even knew how to discuss murder – he had never had to do it, not for ideals, not for Valdemar, but he knew it happened. And Aelius apparently had some experience with it, judging by the last time they’d been here.

And if his internal questions regarding how a _Companion_ could murder someone led him to that bizarre double-vision of a man where his Companion stood – well – he had more urgent things to think about now. It could wait, surely.

But killing and even murder took on an entirely different aspect when one dragged religion into things. _Everything_ took on a different aspect when you dragged religion into things, it was inevitable. It was one of the reasons the law and practice of No One True Way was so valuable, it allowed them to somewhat disregard religion as a source of conflict – or at least as the source of _that sort_ of conflict.

Then when you added in the fact that there was an actual honest to gods _holy civil war_ going on, what could even be called a religious _crusade_ – he could understand Kir’s troubles. Well, may not _understand_ , not truly. But he could see where they were coming from, _comprehend_ their existence, even if he couldn’t actually do much to resolve it except be there for his friend.

He hadn’t been raised to be particularly religious. They went to the occasional temple service, but as far as his parents had raised him and he had come to believe – there was some higher power that took on multiple aspects and those aspects were gods of various sorts. He hadn’t found any particularly compelling reason to believe in one over the other so just prayed to whichever seemed most appropriate.

Seeing as he now spent most of his time in Karse following a man he would bet was one of the most faithful of the Sunlord’s people alive, praying to Vkandis Sunlord seemed appropriate.

Anyhow, he was no expert on religion in general, much less the Sunlord and the religion associated with Him – though he had read the Writ back to front and knew a lot of things about the technicalities involved, he was still a raw beginner when it came to that sort of thing. But thankfully, he had a priest-in-training he could send letters to, and Asher was definitely _some_ sort of clairvoyant because his reply had arrived before the letter Anur had sent with the 76th could have even gotten to Haven, answering all his questions and requests and then some.

That was where he had been, actually. Making sure everything was in order for when the guest was scheduled to arrive – thank goodness for Captain Naomi, her collecting his stipend for him on Valdemar’s side had been god-send, and since he’d been living in Karse this whole time he could more than afford putting up one priest in the inn’s best room for a few nights.

He just hoped this helped.

***===***pagebreak***===***

Anur was up to something.

Initially, Kir had been able to brush it off as the plot to get him out of the 62nd and to Lisle, which, while transparent, had still been somewhat under the table.

But when they’d gotten to Lisle and he continued acting oddly, Kir had resigned himself to something else coming along.

He had expected him to drag Griffon in, or plot some doomed-to-fail reconciliation with Marcus.

He had not expected to be pulled into the back room of the local temple – a very odd building, they called it _non-denominational_ , meaning _multiple gods_ from _different faiths_ were worshiped in the same place. _Without_ anybody trying to kill each other.

Valdemar was such an utterly bizarre country.

But even in a place as strange as this, he would know those robes anywhere.

Inhaling sharply, he met the gaze of the comfortably middle-aged Sunpriest with his heart in his throat. What was a Sunpriest _doing_ here? Surely there were no worshipers of Vkandis in Lisle aside from him! He would have noticed something like that – wouldn’t he?

“Kir, this is Father Gerichen, he’s from the Temple of the Lord of Light in Haven,” Anur introduced in Karsite, looking nervous, “I asked him to come – through Asher.”

“You must be this Father Kir we’ve heard so much about,” the man smiled, continuing in kind, “It is an honor to meet you, younger sib.”

“I’ll be outside,” Anur murmured, squeezing his shoulder one last time before ducking out of the room, door shutting behind him.

“Come,” Gerichen said quietly, waving to a chair across from him, “Sit with me. I’m steeping some tea, I understand you take yours hair-raising?”

Kir sat down with a scoff, accepting that joke as the invitation it was, “Anur simply can’t handle real tea.”

The silence that fell was comfortable now, the tension broken for the moment. It wasn’t until he accepted the finished tea with murmured thanks that Kir finally made the first move, “How is Asher?”

“Doing very well,” Gerichen smiled, “He’s a pleasure to work with, though his occasional _knowing_ is rather unnerving. Herald Alberich has come by to speak with him about it, though apparently his Gift is far broader than Alberich’s, detailing events he cannot necessarily affect.”

“Maybe not directly,” Kir pointed out, “But simply in _knowing_ he can affect things. He sent a letter to Anur with words for me that were a prediction, and while nothing in those words changed the outcome, they aided my interpretation.”

“Very true,” Gerichen acknowledged, before chuckling, “But Asher is far more content with writing letters and trusting things will follow, Herald Alberich is a much more a man of action.”

“Then their Gifts suit them well,” Kir agreed, wondering for a moment whether the Gift impacted their personality or their personality impacted the manifestation of the witch-power – he had a suspicion it was a phoenix or the flame question, one which could never truly be answered.

It was Gerichen who broke this silence, saying, “Asher gave me very vague reasons why this visit was needed so sorely, and Herald Anur’s letter answered no questions at all, I’m afraid.”

“That is typical of his letters,” Kir sighed, “You should have seen everyone when we arrived a few days ago – apparently they were under the impression I was crippled or dying thanks to his last one.”

Taking a stiff swig of tea, he continued, “I assume you have questions?”

“The phrase Cat of Fire was rather attention grabbing in both,” Gerichen said dryly, “And Asher alarmed us all with a panic a week before the Herald’s letter arrived, fearing you dead.”

Kir hissed through his teeth, remembering almost ruefully his desire to speak with someone about Faith and heresy and the nature of the two – _ask and ye shall receive_ indeed – before replying, “I’m not certain as to the timeline, but I took a lung-wound around that time. Thanks to interference on the part of a healer my recovery was assured and the time more than halved, but it was apparently still an… alarming incident.”

“A lung-wound? It would be!” Gerichen examined him with no little concern, “And you traveled here from the border? Was that wise?”

“It was determined I’d rest more here than there,” Kir shrugged with a wry smile, “And I cannot dispute that assessment. The healer did good work, truly, it simply aches occasionally now.”

“Impressive,” the other priest agreed, settling back in his chair, “I am grateful I have never found myself in that sort of position. I’m quite happy ministering in a relatively peaceful city and serving as counsel for those that run off into danger.”

“While I would go mad sending people into danger if I were not right there with them,” Kir grinned, “To each their own, I suppose.”

“You are welcome to it,” Gerichen snorted, continuing, “And this Cat of Fire business?”

Kir grimaced; this was the one he was truly worried about, his own judgment in this was biased, was flawed, but wasn’t that the reason he wanted someone to talk to in the first place? Anur and Asher had gone to no small trouble to ensure this conversation could happen, he couldn’t just let this chance slide.

“We – “ Kir hesitated, because the story relied on knowing Anur had been there in Karse, and was relatively comfortable in Karse, and this priest had already attested to seeing Herald Alberich.

But something in his hesitation must have given away the cause, as Gerichen assured, “I will not speak of this to anyone, Herald Alberich and I are friends, yes, but we do not often discuss politics, and he takes the seal of confidentiality seriously. He must, in order for the two of us to have our usual discussions.”

That _was_ reassuring and with that last barrier taken care of, Kir found himself near stumbling over the words in his haste to get them out.

“Towards the beginning of summer myself, Anur and two scouts were returning from an investigation in the south when we ran into a group of black-robe summoners heading north. As that is where we’re stationed, we had no true choice but to accompany them. One of them mentioned wanting to stop by a traveler’s chapel on our way and there were three children hiding there – Aelius detected them and relayed to Anur so while the summoners slept in the inn we four tried to figure out how to get them out of there by the next morning.”

“Without actually approaching them, I assume?” Gerichen prompted.

Kir nodded, continuing, “We couldn’t – if they were caught at any point and fingered us as having aided them – it would ruin a fair bit more than Herald Anur’s position as my Enforcer.”

Gerichen choked on his tea, spluttering, “Your Enforcer? Never mind, please, continue.”

“Just – accept that we couldn’t directly approach them. Not that a Firestarter directly approaching them would have worked out to be very reassuring in the first place, but we couldn’t risk it either way. Then Anur suggested a familiar figure from stories, asking what would serve as a Companion analogue in Karse – apparently Valdemarn children will follow a Companion just trusting they are leading them to safety?”

Gerichen nodded at that question, a thoughtful expression on his face as he worked through the problem himself, saying, “A Firecat then?”

“Yes,” Kir took a sip of tea before chuckling, “Apparently the Writ never clarifies that Firecats are not literally cats made out of fire, so Anur was under the impression that I could simply… craft one, out of flames.”

Gerichen’s mouth was twitching suspiciously, “I will have to reread the relevant portions of the Writ – but I’m fairly certain a few of the more apocryphal stories would make very little sense if Firecats were literally on fire.”

“Yes, Anur attested to as much,” Kir shook his head, “We explained things to him but – none of us could think of anything else; well, besides sending Aelius and making them run screaming into the night terrified out of their minds, but that plan was written off as a very bad idea.”

“I doubt screaming mindlessly in terror is ever a good plan, much less when the goal was subtlety,” Gerichen replied dryly, though he continued seriously, “So you crafted a false Firecat.”

Kir could feel his knuckles going white around the mug as he stared into the tea, saying quietly, “I could not – I couldn’t think of any other option. And I couldn’t risk their capture – because I couldn’t let them die. If they were caught, I’d be planning an escape, and that had a far higher chance of destroying our… delicately balanced situation.”

“I do hope,” Gerichen said after a few long moments, “That one day you can tell me the details of this delicately balanced situation. A Herald serving as an Enforcer? With two scouts who apparently accept information acquired via Companion as accurate and useful? The tale must be magnificent. I hope you are recording it.”

Kir winced, “Ah – no. Though I suppose I should start.”

“It would probably be much more interesting reading than some of the other Sunpriests who preserved records,” Gerichen snorted, “There are only so many repetitions of the _exact same_ sort of day that one can take.”

“You had to read those too?” Kir looked up, startled, “My apologies, but I was under the impression you came to Valdemar… very young.”

“I was twelve,” Gerichen shrugged, “But my family was filled with scholars. I learned to read with those texts. They are part of the curriculum for an initiate?”

“I was an initiate for five years,” Kir replied dryly, “They were running out of reading material.”

“That is a long one, you must have been on the younger end,” Gerichen agreed, continuing, “Back to this Cat of Fire – you worry it is blasphemy?”

“How can it not be?” Kir asked tiredly, shoulders slumping, “I laid actions directly at the feet of Vkandis Sunlord – Anur pointed out I’d done the same for years, with the burnings, but that’s not the same. Firecats – there has _never_ been a false Firecat. There have been false prophets, treacherous priests – but Firecats are unmistakable signs of Vkandis’ favor and I _faked_ one.”

The silence that fell this time was no longer comfortable. Gerichen was the one to break it, leaning forward to brace himself on his knees with a sigh, “Well, needless to say, I would not recommend doing it again.”

Kir shuddered, nodding agreement. It hadn’t been so bad, that first time – he’d even been able to joke about doing it again. But the more he had thought about it, the more time he’d had to consider what he had done, the more utterly abhorrent it became. What had he been _thinking_?

“But at the same time,” Gerichen sighed, “If it were ever the only way to save innocent lives again – to be on the safe side, to save children’s lives again, as they are the true innocents – I could not decry it.”

“I’d rather come up with something different,” Kir began, Gerichen interrupting, “Of course!” he cried, “Of course, if there is another option, seize on that. But you say this delicate situation of yours was in danger, as well as the children? Do you have any… assurances? Guidance? That this situation is part of the Sunlord’s plan?”

Kir ruefully considered the list of names written by the Son’s own hand, and said quietly, “Yes.”

“Then you were truly stuck,” Gerichen said, noticeably hesitating before he continued, “Though did you try simply – asking? For help?”

“Asking?” Kir blinked, not understanding the question for a moment before it clicked, “You mean _ask_ for a _Firecat_?”

“Or some assistance in saving the children,” Gerichen nodded, “But as you’d had a plan regarding a Firecat, asking for a Firecat’s assistance would probably not have been entirely overstepping bounds.”

Kir stared for a few long moments, setting his now empty mug aside while he thought back over what his mind had been scrambling through while in that temple. No – he hadn’t ever directly asked for help, not in that situation. Not for a _Firecat_. All he’d really asked for was – was a chance to talk to someone about Faith and conflicts and doubts –

Considering where he was now, asking for help _directly_ and for that _exact_ situation may not have ended entirely disastrously.

He buried his face in his hands, saying, “I feel rather stupid right now.”

“Don’t,” the other priest said, “You have considered _yourself_ a heretic for long enough that even the initially half-joking condemnation has made you doubt. You are no heretic, my son. And while yes, you are committing treason, given a Herald is your Enforcer, treason is but temporary, dependent on whims of rulers and the day will come yet when that treason is no longer.”

Kir looked up sharply at that – he had spoken _nothing_ of Solaris to this priest, and while Asher may have mentioned something, he doubted it would lead him to such explicit conclusions.

Gerichen was staring at the sunlight pouring through the window, gaze distant in a way that Kir found eerily familiar-yet-not and was it any real surprise that his first thought was to run away as fast as he possibly could (because _that_ would make a difference) – and Gerichen blinked, strange otherworldly air leaving and he settled back in his chair, brown eyes looking over at him with rueful amusement, “My apologies brother, woolgathering – happens ever more often of late.”

Kir just nodded slowly, keeping an eye on the door just in case.

Running would at least make him _feel_ better, even if it didn’t actually accomplish anything (would it be needed? He wasn’t a heretic. _He wasn’t a heretic!)_

“Now, you were saying, brother?” Gerichen prompted, taking another sip of his tea.

“I will keep your suggestion in mind,” Kir said slowly, shaking off the last worry and shock to smile at the older man, “Asking for help is – not something I considered.”

Gerichen smiled and nodded, “Then I am glad to have reminded you. Now, is there anything else I can help with? I, unfortunately, need to depart tomorrow. While I have a junior priest, he was distinctly queasy at the idea of managing things by himself for a few days.”

Kir considered the question – he didn’t particularly want to discuss anything further right now, not regarding faith, not until he’d considered the words the Voice had spoken to him – but… there was that one thing he wondered about. Waving his hand around in an all-encompassing gesture, he began, “This non-denominational temple business – “

“Utterly bizarre, isn’t it?” Gerichen agreed, looking around the room with clear bemusement, “I have only heard of such places, and then seldom.”

“So it _is_ still strange in Valdemar?” Kir sighed in relief, “Good, I was worried that I’d _never_ understand these people.”

“It is most _certainly_ still strange in Valdemar,” Gerichen shook his head, “It is my understanding that they’re more common in middling-sized towns – there are enough people for different faiths to be present in numbers that require worship outside the home, but few enough that there isn’t any real sense in constructing separate temples for each sect.”

“This explains a lot about Anur,” Kir mused, “If he grew up with this.”

“Hmm. Something I will have to look into,” Gerichen agreed, eyeing Kir thoughtfully before saying, “You seem much more settled, brother. Good. I am glad I was able to help in some small way.”

“Your help was far from small,” Kir replied, the elder priest waving him off and picking up a thin book, handing it to him with a simple, “This is for you. Asher mentioned owing you a book, for some reason – and he also made reference to future records. So – a blank book, waiting for you to record this delicate situation that has me so curious.”

Kir took the book and shook his head, a small smile on his face, “Pass on my thanks to him, please – will you be departing particularly early tomorrow? I would like to write him a letter.”

“I am enjoying my brief break,” Gerichen said cheerfully, “I do not plan to leave until midmorning after an appropriately leisurely breakfast. He would be thrilled to receive a letter from you.”

“I will see to it that Anur manages to write more than a sentence, too,” Kir offered, the other priest chuckling and rising to his feet. Kir followed, but Gerichen stopped him from exiting, patting his shoulder briefly and saying, “I will leave you to assure your Herald that all is well.”

“Thank you,” Kir said abruptly, “I cannot thank you enough for this –  for coming here, for this book – all of it.”

Gerichen smiled, “It was my pleasure. Vkandis watch over you, brother.”

“Vkandis bless, protect and guide,” Kir returned quietly, Gerichen finally leaving the room. Kir looked down at the blank journal bound in dark red leather (with, if he wasn’t mistaken, flames impressed in the spine) wondering just how his life had become something out of sagas.

Unfortunately, it was a little too late to back out now.

“Kir?” Anur peered into the room, worried lines on his face fading and he smiled, “Ready to go see Mara?”

Kir laughed, stepping forward and wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders, “Of course,” he agreed, “And thank you, for writing Asher. I – I needed that.”

“Glad it helped!” Anur beamed, noticing the book and frowning, “That’s not another list of names, is it? Because we have _way_ too many names left to add even _more_ to the list!”

Kir just chuckled, “No, Anur. It’s not a list of names. I’ll let you know what it is once I start writing it.”

Anur examined him for a few long moments, before his last tension vanished and he shrugged, “Can’t blame me for worrying! Now come on! Mara’s been driving us crazy while we waited!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So not much of the Bellamys in this one, sorry. Didn't think a lot of people were going to be really looking forward to seeing them again in a lot of detail, and when I did, I tried to rewrite it but my rewrite was awful.
> 
> Just. It was bad.
> 
> Never to fear, they shall appear again and more frequently and with at least another few chapters of one fic focused on family because I've already started writing those chapters out of order. So, hope you weren't too disappointed and more importantly hope that the conversation with Gerichen flowed well and helped resolve some standing issues.


	21. Rumors of Change

Devek scraped his boots clear of mud on the edge of the steps before he entered the tavern proper, oiled coat still repelling water, thankfully. As strained as the supply trains had been for the 62nd, his old coat still worked better than the one he’d been issued here – it was mended and patched, but still waterproof. There was something to be said for carefully tending to your own gear.

Hanging his coat to drip dry near the fire, he took an out of the way seat and ordered a rabbit pie and ale; it was his night on the town, barracks for his new unit, the 35th Lancers, close enough that actually going into town on leave-nights was feasible.

If there was one thing he didn’t miss about the 62nd, it was the degree of isolation. It had resulted in greater camaraderie, but it had also been a mess to deal with in the poor-weather falls and winters when going outside to get some space wasn’t always an option. The number of times he’d had to break up fights over the stupidest things didn’t bear considering!

This particular tavern had become a favorite of his; the lighting was warm but just dim enough that give it a bit of time and no one would remember an officer was here, plenty of Sunsguard enlisted men came in to warm up and enjoy the company of the serving girls and the place was popular amongst travelers and locals too – making it the perfect spot to lurk in a corner and listen for news.

“- Firestarter,” he heard from the table a few down from him. They were keeping their voices low, but the table they’d chosen had a weakness – it couldn’t see the door easily; meaning they didn’t know he was here, so they weren’t being as careful as they should have.

But their carelessness was Devek’s triumph, so he leaned back in his chair and tilted his head slightly to catch as much of their exchange as possible.

“A Firestarter, put _out_ a fire? Now I know you’ve been drinking,” that sounded like one of the junior cooks – the one from the southern reaches of Ruby Lake.

“Got it straight from my cousin! The whole town was evacuated because of that fire, and the foresters had sent for help but all that showed up in time was this Firestarter and some Enforcers – everyone made it out! And you _know_ those forest fires are bad, no way would they have made it out if the fire hadn’t been stopped. Put the whole blasted thing out!” that was definitely one of their hostlers, from up by the Comb – if he’d needed any more confirmation, there it was. The Comb was near enough the 62nd for Father Kir to have headed out for a forest fire.

“Huh,” another voice this time, at least three of them then, he couldn’t quite put his finger on this one, “You know… that reminds me of that story from the 40th, remember that one?”

“That was the… the _witch-power_ , right?” the damning term was barely murmured, Devek only just able to hear the consonants and filling in the rest while he was served his dinner. Murmuring thanks to the girl and paying her for his meal, he left half-an-ear open for the all too interesting conversation, but he could miss some of this story. He’d been there after all.

“That one was a Firestarter too? I thought it was an exorcist,” the hostler asked, Devek grimacing at the reminder of Loshern. Misunderstanding or not, that man had definitely left a very strong and sour impression, no matter his truly holy calling.

“Definitely a Firestarter when I heard it,” the cook confirmed, “Now what about that business with Hardorn, you think the Senior Lieutenant is right, we’re going to get pulled into a full war against them?”

“I think he spent too long in the northwest – no way will we be sent against Hardorn when they’re warring with the White Demons,” the tantalizingly familiar voice said – wait a minute, that was one of his scouts! Well, not his, not anymore – he was full second in command now, but the scouts were still _his_.

Well if that was what they thought, they’d be in for a rude awakening when the Rising Son came around. He’d have to figure out more subtle ways to get them ready for true war conditions. Sergeant Greich had given him some excellent ideas.

And he’d have to tease the twins in his next letter – because he doubted they had been instated as Enforcers.


	22. Cold Snap

“Why, seriously?” Anur grumbled, hunching his shoulders deeper into his coat in an effort to avoid the cutting wind. “Even if you _do_ buy into the Nightstalkers only hunt heretics bull, why would you summon so _many_ of them? They can’t honestly think that there’re that many heretics up here! There aren’t even that many _people_ here anymore!”

Kir snorted, scarf wrapped around his face in an effort to keep icy air from irritating his lungs – it may have been a full moon and a half since his injury, filled with a long visit to the Bellamy’s and a surprising amount of worried, overprotective Sunsguard, but said overprotective Sunsguard had barely let him out into rain, much less the unfortunately heavy snows of this winter.

If it hadn’t been for reports of Nightstalkers, and lots of them, in the form of destroyed sheds and decimated herds (no humans, thank the One God) and that eerie, hair-raising _chittering_ echoing in the snow blanketed hills, he doubted they would have let him out to patrol for days on end now. As it was, he had Anur and the twins following him around and it had been a challenge to convince them that truly, they were all he needed.

All he _wanted_ with Nightstalkers around, protecting himself and Anur from the things would be difficult enough, add in two more and horses more likely to panic? This was not a pleasant errand in any sense of the word.

“What are these things?” Balin burst, shuddering in his coat, glaring out into the dusk, “Why – why are they here, how did this even _start,_ Father Kir?”

Galen and Anur both looked at him, clearly interested in his answer and Kir sighed, breathe billowing out in a white cloud as he looked up at the darkening sky. “Furies are planar creatures,” he began, searching for the right words to explain these wretches, to explain the monsters that had preyed on their people for far, far too long. “They are… animals, in a sense. Yes – no more intelligent than dogs, there is a predatory sort of cunning to them but they are not capable of reason, of true intelligence.”

“So how do the priests give them orders?” Galen asked, “Is it… like attack dogs?”

“That gives them far too much credit,” Kir sighed, “It is – from my understanding, summoners simply bring them into the world – bring them from the Astral Planes, where they exist as creatures removed from our own world, and point them in a general direction. With the right preparations, they could bind them within a certain area, to target a certain house, say, but they cannot give a name, a scent, and send them after that one person. Well, they could, but the chances of them actually finding just that one person are slim to none.”

“So the people who die, it’s just – it’s random?” Balin asked quietly, pale and washed-out in the moonlight reflecting off snow, sun truly set now.

“For the most part, yes. Especially in these parts – they are just set loose to wander until they can no longer hold themselves in this world,” Kir grimaced, “That is one theory as to why they are so… voracious. It is possible that when they kill, they gain more time here – and a chance to gain more energy through death and fear.”

“Why did it start then? If they’re so random – how could it be deemed feasible, a good plan, to use them?” Galen asked, brow furrowing.

“That’s simple enough,” Anur answered, a grim expression on his face, “If they’re sent against people who _don’t matter_ , a group where every death, any death at all, is a victory – what does it matter if they are random? A direction is all you would need.”

“Valdemar,” Kir murmured, gaze distant as he wondered, questioned – all those centuries ago, how had it started? Where had it begun? What seemingly inconsequential choice, likely minor step from the Way, had spurred this entire disaster on? “Many things can be justified, when there is an external enemy to take the blame and become the monster to be fought.”

“So Valdemar was a scapegoat?”

“A threat of some sort, a threat to the power base – or even a convenient scapegoat, depending on circumstance,” Kir agreed, “Think on it, Ancar took power in Hardorn by assassinating his father and blaming Valdemar, correct? They may know now that it is false, but it is too late for that realization to do any good, the initial reaction gave Ancar time to solidify his power base. Say there was some threat, some potential uprising or discontent in Karse – what better way to unify the people again, bring them back in to support the priesthood fully, than to have an external enemy? An enemy few know personally, with strange powers and odd abilities – something to set them apart, to mark them as _different_ , and noticeably so – it would be depressingly easy, to make those differences marks of evil, of wickedness, rather than simply what they were – differences.”

“And then it just continued,” Balin frowned, “Are we – is this ever going to work? Between Karse and Valdemar?”

“If our experiment with Captain Naomi is any indication, it will work and quite well. It will be difficult, and may very well be decades before it’s truly stable, but I think it will work,” Kir shrugged, “Now – are we ready to hunt?”

The twins hefted their unlit torches and Anur nodded shortly, Aelius tossing his head in agreement. Kir murmured a brief prayer before sinking into his by now too familiar working and feeling more than hearing the surge of chittering and hair-raising _eagerness_ sweeping towards them from the northeast.

“Northeast, middling swarm – arrive in six.”

 


	23. The Northern Cousins (2)

_Selenay, Queen of Valdemar_

Selenay was enjoying a rare quiet evening with Daren – Elspeth was out with the Skybolts on winter campaigning exercises, the twins were settled and they had both gotten enough work done today to not feel guilty about this evening of relaxation.

Daren suddenly chuckled, the low tone rumbling in his chest and she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow and mutely asking for an explanation. She could use a decent joke.

“I was just thinking that it’s nearly been a year since we’ve married, and yet it feels like it’s been both no time at all and forever,” he supplied, continuing ruefully, “And then I remembered Kerowyn’s constant teasing that I was a closet romantic and couldn’t help but laugh.”

“It’s only a few more days until the actual anniversary day, isn’t it?” Selenay echoed the smile, recalling her second wedding day with a wondering sort of joy. After Karath – after him, she had resigned herself to a life of spinsterhood. It was not a problem, per se, especially not after Elspeth was Chosen and Heir in truth as well as in blood, but the young woman who’d so longed for romance had never really disappeared simply – grown up. Grown resigned.

To think, she’d simply chosen the wrong brother!

Not that Daren at that time would have made an ideal partner, she knew, remembering from his stories that at that particular time in his life he’d only just begun training with the legendary Tarma and met Kerowyn. He had also been, in his own words ‘an utter brat’.

Not something a young woman just taking power in her own country and only barely recovering from her father’s death in war could use as a partner. In fact, the whole matter had led the two of them to spend entire evenings pondering the nature of life-bonding and stages of maturity – had they met as youths, would they have ever life-bonded? Would this love have ever taken hold?

Easy to muse about, to wonder on, now that they had one another.

And remembering her wedding led to her remembering the gifts – and one particular set of gifts that had been memorable in their utter strangeness. Selenay chuckled and said aloud, “I do wonder what on earth Herald Anur is up to now, what with that collaboration down by Karse still going strong.”

“I find that an utterly absurd situation, still,” Daren confessed, “After all the trouble _both_ our homelands have had with Karse – to find a Herald friends with a priest? And one’s whose main responsibility is to hunt witches?”

“It is strange,” Selenay agreed, “Though not as strange as that paperwork – I’d never even _heard_ of an Enforcer, and somehow I was approved as one? The man literally wrote _Witch-Queen of the North_ as my former occupation!”

“It’s very obvious they don’t read his reports,” Daren replied dryly, “So at least his test on that front was successful. I don’t suppose anything came of it, like they were worried about?”

“Nothing,” Selenay sighed, “We don’t have many agents in Karse itself, just enough to give us a warning if they start considering allying with Hardorn but if that blood-magic grudge is accurate I don’t see that happening.”

“At the very least, one priest would probably go ballistic and try to set the entirety of Sunhame on fire,” Daren agreed, “I asked Quentin about it before he left – apparently the matter is widely known in mage circles. Blood mages know damn well to stay out of Karse, because if they go in, they’ll die – and if they practice their art, it is entirely possible their entire school will die.”

“Really?” Selenay asked, raising an eyebrow, “I didn’t know it was that extreme.”

“Well, from what Alberich said, the matter was complicated by the fact that the last blood mage to really practice in Karse also tried to assassinate the Son of Sun – so if a blood mage worked in Karse and didn’t go after quite such a high profile target, their school might survive, but they certainly wouldn’t,” Daren elaborated.

“Hmm. A pity Ancar has apparently failed to send blood mages into Karse,” Selenay commented sourly, “It would be nice to have the man split his attention more thoroughly, he still throws the majority of his forces against us.”

“It would,” Daren agreed, neither of them saying aloud that they’d never truly wish war on more innocents, on the unprepared, on those who thought themselves safe. But the years of war were wearing on Valdemar, and any form of break would be welcome, even at another’s expense.

“The spice cake was good though,” she commented.

“That _prodka_ was… lethal.”

“I can’t believe anyone would actually drink it straight! Do you think it was just an exaggeration?”

“Alberich took a shot…”

“Well yes but that’s _Alberich_!”

_Dirk, Herald of Valdemar_

“No secret gifts to smuggle to the queen this time, Griff?” Dirk grinned, his old student looking up from his book and smiling, “Dirk!” he cried, hugging him in greeting, “No, no gifts to smuggle. Haven’t heard from Anur in a few moons actually, I’ve been further up towards Iftel.”

“Aelius and Harevis haven’t been chatting?” Dirk asked, surprised, and Griff snorted, waving Dirk to a seat and preparing another mug of tea. They were in a small study room that Griff had been taking over every winter since the war started, with a good view of the Companion’s Field and a small hearth with very strange scorch marks on the brick.

“Aelius is, apparently, anti-social,” Griffon rolled his eyes, “According to Harevis, he was always friendly enough, but he never sought to make conversation, and he _loathes_ small-talk.”

“But just asking to catch up?” Dirk blinked, Ahrodie taking the chance to interrupt, voice remarkably emotionless as she said, _:Aelius prefers to keep things to himself. If he does not need help, he will not speak of it.:_

“Harevis agrees with whatever she said,” Griffon shrugged, “I think it’s funny that the most open and friendly person I know has a Companion known for standoffishness, but that just shows how they complement each other, right?”

Dirk nodded, frowning as he wondered. He remembered Anur being friendly with everyone, having connections and at least acquaintance level relationships with all sorts of people until things just… fell apart, the first year they were all full Heralds, finished with their internships and everything. He’d been shattered by Delilah and come back to find that Anur was stationed as a border Herald and no one had heard from him in months.

He’d never considered Anur a particularly _close_ friend, so had shrugged and figured they’d catch up when they ran into one another again.

Only that’s not what happened, was it? When they ran into one another again, he was sitting with Griffon and a Sunpriest, of all people, and was just – not who he remembered. Not so outgoing, so friendly – but that didn’t make sense. Not at all, not with a Sunpriest he called friend.

“You were yearmates with him, right?” Griffon asked, pouring the steaming water and shoving the mug at him, “And in the same Gift classes, I’m assuming since he has fetching too.”

“Yes, his is the line-of-sight more than mine, but we shared lots of classes,” Dirk shrugged, “But I can’t say we were particularly close. He’s a friend, of course, he’s a fellow Herald and I grew up with him, essentially – but we weren’t – we’re not _brothers_ , not like me and Kris.”

“Yeah, yeah I get that,” Griff said quietly, hesitating before continuing, “So – this is kind of odd to ask but – are you sure there’s not something between you guys? I mean, Anur was just – he was fine, when Kir was showing me tricks but when you came in it was like they both just – seized up. And I’m pretty sure Kir was taking his cues from Anur.”

“I don’t know,” Dirk frowned, “I don’t think so – I mean – no, nothing really. Nothing important.”

 _:Ahrodie?:_ he asked.

_:…I’m not certain. Chosen. Who knows what runs through those two’s minds? Friends with a Sunpriest! Who would have seen that one coming?:_

There was something strange in her response, but he let it go. If it were truly important, Ahrodie would tell him, surely. “I don’t know,” he repeated aloud. “I’ll just have to ask him when I see him again.”

“Probably a good idea,” Griff agreed, “Now, let me show you the kind of cool shapes I can make with fire!”

“All right!” Dirk whooped, “I knew you’d get it!”

_Gerichen, Priest of the Lord of Light_

Gerichen watched indulgently as the acolytes clustered around Asher, even the older ones listening with fascination as he told the tale of his rescue from the Fires for what had to be the seventh or eighth time. It had all the elements of a dramatic tale from the sagas, and he was certain Herald Anur and Father Kir would be very surprised to find they had quite the collection of admirers in Haven.

Perhaps something in those delicate circumstances of theirs would allow them to come to Haven one day and meet the children – now wouldn’t _that_ be incredible! Gerichen sighed, leaving the children to their tales and heading towards his quarters, trusting that the eldest of the acolytes would ensure they completed their duties for the evening before retiring.

He had found himself turning his meeting with the surprisingly young Kir Dinesh over and over again in his mind, trying to recapture that strange sensation of _weight_ the younger priest had. The sense that he was standing in a clear _presence_ , near someone who was important, even vital, to the Sunlord’s plan. It was an unnervingly comforting sensation.

He could easily believe the young man found himself in circumstances where at least two Sunsguard accepted a Herald and Companion as authorities, as one of their own, even temporarily. With an air like that, it would be hard for anyone to deny him. Even half curled in on himself and clearly terrified of judgment and exhausted, he had exuded a strange sort of humble authority.

And when he had straightened, the weight somehow lifted form his shoulders by whatever part of Gerichen’s conversation had reached out to him, it was as if the ground suddenly grew firmer under his feet, there was just such a strong _conviction_ gracing everything he did. It was a good thing that Kir Dinesh was a genuinely good person, because the wrong person with that sort of projective confidence could do a great deal of damage, particularly in Karse.

The system was rather weak to people like that, after all.

“Father Gerichen?”

He turned from his meditation over a stained-glass window and smiled at Asher, “Hello Asher. Done storytelling already?”

The boy laughed, saying, “Never, Father! Their deeds deserve to be known to all and sundry!”

“Oh, deeds is it? More enterprises than rescuing you?” Gerichen teased, knowing full well that there was at least one more, if not two (a pierced lung, really!).

Asher’s smile faded and he tilted his head to the side slightly, staring up at Gerichen in the peculiarly solemn manner that was so signature to him. “Plenty,” he replied seriously, “And many more to come. But next year – I think next year is going to change a lot of things.”

“Then shall we pray for their safekeeping in this year of change?” Gerichen offered seriously, by now more than used to Asher’s odd moments of prescience.

“We should,” Asher blinked into the distance before focusing on Gerichen again and smiling, “For a most _momentous_ year.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why what IS with all these chapters?
> 
> Well, I realized I had almost finished the story with 2 more chapters to be written and if I focused, I might be able to post the last chapter on Midwinter's Day itself.
> 
> Wouldn't that be nice?
> 
> So here is the attempt. Done whilst traveling all over by plane of course. Not to worry, I have actually thought all these through, like I said, only 2 left to write, the rest are all written and in the reread and editing stage. Hope you enjoyed these glimpses of Valdemar!


	24. Finding a Way

“But then we’d have to build an extra two _mel_ of road! If we take advantage of this bit we only have to do one on our side, two on theirs!”

“That’s not a _road_ it’s a _goat track_ , we want to _trade_ with them, don’t we? That means wagons and carts and caravans! Which need an actual _road_ , like _this_ one!”

“What are they arguing about?” Kir asked, eyeing the crowd in the mess with wary bemusement. He didn’t want to get dragged into whatever it was, after all, he’d just come in here to find Anur. A series of exchanges had gone on between the 76th and the 62nd, and the latest bunch of letters and goods had come in just after Midwinter’s Day, courtesy a twitchy Anur and an indulgent witch-horse.

The Herald-Enforcer in question shrugged and said, “I think it’s something to do with trade-routes? Apparently we’re now responsible for building roads and they want to have routes ready to go when the alliance with Valdemar goes through – or at least the non-enmity with Valdemar,” he corrected, taking a sip of tea.

Kir sat down next to him with a sigh, “They realize that they won’t exactly have much of a say in it, in all likelihood?”

“I think they’re figuring you will. Also, they might just be trying to find something new to argue about, it has been a long winter,” Anur pointed out, Kir tipping his mug to acknowledge the point. It had started early and hard, bringing Nightstalkers with the snows, and temperatures had seldom risen above freezing. The week before Midwinter’s Day the drifts had been approaching the windows before the snows had finally stopped.

It was still bitterly cold and insanely bright with all the snow everywhere, but there was at least no _more_ snow being dumped down on them.

Needless to say, the usual past-times and the thrill of _snow_ had quickly worn out their welcome and left the men of the 62nd searching for things to occupy their time. Card games, a surprising amount of Valdemaran study groups, a less surprising but still odd amount of _Hardornen_ study groups – the twins had even spent a while telling all the monster stories their grandmother had told them, dragging Kir in to consult on accuracy and ways of combating the things.

There would be _plenty_ of people ready to fight Witach’s brood if they started crossing over into Karse again, at least. And some of the old stories he hadn’t heard in years, if he’d even heard the whole story. It had been a surprisingly pleasant (if somewhat creepy) week.

Anur had wrapped it up with the story of the Firestarting Order’s founding, happily crediting Herald-Captain Alberich for the fact he even knew it. Kir had gotten a surprising amount of questions and concerns about that one – and more than a few orders to not ever resort to burning himself alive to kill a blood-mage.

Somehow the debate on road-building had devolved into trying out their multi-language insulting skills, with expansive and rude gestures to match. Kir wasn’t surprised. Lately most of these discussions devolved into that soon enough.

Maybe he should start teaching knotwork? It would at least keep their hands busy.

“Wait a minute,” Kir frowned, “Where did they get the map? Accurate maps of the dead-zone are still hard to come by, even here – did Captain Naomi send one with the latest dispatches?”

“No, I think that one’s yours, actually,” Anur smiled sheepishly, “You let me borrow it, remember? They sort of… abducted it.”

Kir narrowed his eyes, then looked over at the crowd around the table. Expansive gestures, insults and mugs of what he would bet was mulled cider – that all spelled a ruined map.

Not on his watch, by the One God!


	25. The Oathbreaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: reference to rape - nothing even remotely explicit, but wanted to put it up just in case.

Warm golden sunlight fell through the trees like syrup, small blossoms still budding on the bushes and low-lying scrub just turning green all across the forest floor. It was a truly beautiful spring morning and the two of them had spent the entire morning in silence, simply reveling in the peace. Their investigation in the far foothills of the Morningray Mountains had been a simple enough matter, and even better, one that resulted in Kir confidently removing a name from their list of threats without any machinations. The man Solaris had listed simply wasn’t one to worry about, he would support her rise whole-heartedly.

It had been indescribably soothing, to ride into a town and find people who truly loved their priest. Initially, Kir had been worried – the man had once been a summoner of no small power and still held sway over quite a few minds in Sunhame with his reputation, but it seemed that his retirement truly had been that, a retirement. And he had taken to the duties of a simple parish priest with gusto, becoming a much-loved elder throughout the surrounding townships.

And if his former status as a feared summoner had given him some sympathy for a young Firestarter riding through, well – it had been a pleasant visit, for multiple reasons.

Of course it couldn’t last.

Their intent had been to simply ride through all the villages, stopping only at traveler’s chapels, but the third town of the morning, the one they reached just before noon, ruined that plan.

The horses were at a brisk walk as they headed through the town, a larger settlement lying in a fertile valley that technically straddled the boundary between the Oakrich Hills and the foothills of the Morningrays. When they’d come within sight of those working the outer fields, both had noticed a runner taking off into town, undoubtedly to warn the local priest that others were coming. No one had come up to speak with them, making only small gestures of acknowledgement and even then only if Kir happened to meet their gazes.

Once they noticed the trim on his robes that happened very rarely.

It was only as they started to pass by the temple that anything truly out of the ordinary happened.

“Firestarter!”

Kir raised an eyebrow at the title, not one that was often used as an actual acknowledgement, halting Riva and looking towards the woman who’d called him. The red-robed priestess was comfortably middle-aged, crow’s feet crinkling at the corner of brown eyes and grey just starting to appear in her black hair, but none of that age showed in the way she moved. Definitely the power in this village, with that confident stride and the fearless way she met his eyes.

“Sister,” he nodded shortly, “How may I serve?”

“I would present a case for judgement,” she said coldly, a fierce sort of rage burning in her eyes, “I have yet to send to Sunhame, but it seems there was a Hand in your route today.”

Kir felt honestly shocked for a few moments before he shook it off and dismounted, Anur following his example and grabbing Riva’s reins. “Is there anywhere we might put our horses?” Kir asked, continuing, “And is this matter particularly time-sensitive?”

“The innmaster will allow use of his stables,” the woman said confidently, “And while I would prefer the case was heard as soon as possible it is not particularly critical, no.”

“Very well, allow us to settle our horses and we will hear your case, Sister - ?” he trailed leadingly, the woman finally losing some of that rigidity and chuckling ruefully, offering a small bow with the customary Holy Disk gesure, “Rhiane, Brother. Rhiane Sigryn, Red-robe of the Third Order.”

“Kir Dinesh, Firestarter of the First Order, and my companion, Lieutenant-Enforcer Anur Bellamy,” he returned the gesture and the introduction, Anur bowing his head briefly in acknowledgement.

“Allow me to show you to the inn, I will settle matters with the innmaster,” Rhiane said, proving good at her word and by the time they had settled the horses and secured their packs in Aelius’ stall, the innmaster was waiting for them in the courtyard with the priestess and assured them that their horses would be treated well and fed free of charge. It seemed he was either aware and supportive of the matter Rhiane wanted judgement on or she simply had that much sway in her village.

Kir was willing to put money down on both.

Priestess Rhiane led the way back to the large temple and took them through a back entrance to a room that probably served for small audiences. It was comfortably and tastefully decorated, nothing onstentatious or truly out of place, and it was a place Rhiane felt comfortable in, evidenced by the loosening of her shoulders the moment they stepped into the room.

Though some of that might have been attributed to the presence of a young woman by the hearth, no fire lit, staring into the grate as though in a trance. She was probably essential to the case he was being called in to judge, and if Rhiane’s gentle tone as she introduced them was any indication, she was the victim.

A victim this once, Kir corrected mentally, seeing the way the young woman raised her head and straightened her posture, a proud sort of poise coming over her as she stared at him. “An honor, Your Holiness,” she said simply, “I am Anika Brersi.”

“A pleasure,” he inclined his head shortly, “I take it you are involved in the matter?”

“She brought the matter to my attention,” Rhiane said shortly, waving them both to seats before taking her own, the four chairs they had claimed forming a rough semi-circle in front of the hearth.

“I see,” Kir temporized, raising an eyebrow again. This was a truly bizarre circumstance. Clearly the matter was urgent, or if not urgent, at least highly suspect, for the priestess to have dragged him into things as a judge. Firestarters could serve as judges, it was at the core of their calling, but these matters were usually left to circuit judges, if the local priesthood couldn’t handle it.

“I have heard trustworthy reports of wickedness,” Rhiane said then, Kir’s eyes widening as he recognized that formulaic sentence – this couldn’t be –

“I have seen evidence of blasphemous conduct,” she continued, Kir’s doubts wavering because there was only one sort of accusation that sounded like this –

“And I have found nothing to contradict my conclusions. I call Father Eshkal a traitor to the Order and an Oathbreaker and demand that he be judged.”

 _Oathbreaker_. Kir could feel his own spine straightening at that word, his face feeling like it’d been carved from granite and he could sense Anur’s own tension, prepared to jump whichever way he led. Only a priest could be called an Oathbreaker, and that title could only become an accusation through another member of the priesthood. It was also one that would never be used as a political gambit, because if the accuser was proven to have made the accusation maliciously and wrongly, they would be excommunicated, no matter how many years had passed since the judgement.

“Your witnesses?” he asked coolly, calling on the familiarity of the ritualistic procedure, hoping that this was resolved with less blood than the last time he had heard an old ritual accusation.

“Eshkal came through town six days ago,” Brersi said, breaking the formula, not that it truly mattered, but it was still a little jarring, “He presented himself as a circuit judge returning to Sunhame from a season in the Morningray Mountains.”

“There were a few matters awaiting a circuit-judge’s expertise,” Rhiane continued, a furious helplessness in her voice, “I asked him to remain and hear them out. He stayed for three days.”

“On the second day, he approached me and asked that I speak with him privately,” Anika said, voice catching on the last word but she forged on, “I agreed and he informed me that my – that the case he had heard, concerning my family – that the matter would not be easily resolved, but he could be… persuaded, to rule in my family’s favor.”

Anur hissed wordlessly and Kir wanted to echo the gesture, understanding where this was going all too clearly, but there was something off in her response, something odd in her stumbled words. The priestess hadn’t caught it, instead she seemed filled with righteous fury that one of her flock had been so exploited, and rightly so.

He held up a hand to stop her recounting of exactly what Eshkal had had in mind as far as ‘persuasion’ went and leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees and saying gently, “You are lying.”

He cast a sharp glare at the priestess when she opened her mouth to object, eyes blazing, and she fell silent for a moment, letting him continue, “Not about Eshkal’s extortion, no, but about what he held over you. Your family may have been involved in a case, but it was not the reason he found you vulnerable to that sort of exploitation.”

The young woman had flushed at his first statement, only to go deathly pale when he elaborated, only proving it in his mind. Her fingers twisted in her skirt as she bit out, “Does it matter? He – he _blackmailed_ me into having _sex_ with him!”

“Blackmailed?” Kir pounced on that word, Anur leaning forward slightly as he too caught the implications. “Blackmail implies that there was some wrong-doing he had discovered and was holding over you – not that he was asking for your body as a bribe for his own services.”

“Anika,” Rhiane said, dismayed, “I told you the risks of this sort of accusation – if even the slightest thing is inaccurate…”

“No!” the girl snapped, jolting to her feet with a terrified rage twisting her features, “No! I already – I’ve already had to give up too much to keep him safe I’m not letting that go to _waste_ I never even _wanted_ this judgement Oathbreaking mess I just – “

“Keep him safe?” Kir asked, rising to his own feet and meeting her terrified gaze with his own, keeping his tone level, calm, trying to avoid spooking the girl more, palms open and at his sides. “And you did not want judgement called down, you simply slipped up and Priestess Rhiane pulled the rest out.”

She was shaking her head, the clear fear in her eyes belying that gesture; he was on the right track then.

It was almost depressingly simple, how quickly he could guess just what had been held over her head. It was the nightmare for everyone in Karse, the fear all with a child they cared for suffered.

The fear of people like him.

“He threatened someone you care about with the Fires,” Kir said flatly, “Claimed that they had some witch-power, some condemning feature, but for the right price he would use his influence to keep them safe through the Feast of the Children. The child in question would have to be old enough that one or two more years would make a difference, would give them a chance to truly escape that inspection, otherwise you would not have gone for it.”

“How old is your younger brother?”

“Twelve,” the young woman whispered, all her defiance seeping away and leaving a terrified, shaking child in her place, “He’s twelve.”

Kir felt a cold rage settle in his mind. Besides the disgusting abuse of oaths and authority this Eshkal had conducted, he had threatened this girl with the Flames. Flames that _Firestarters_ were responsible for setting.

People still flinched when they caught sight of him. The progress he’d made would never reach everyone who was afraid, not in his lifetime. He would not live to see a day where no one flinched from him, no one shied away when black-edged crimson rode into town. And this Eshkal had dared to make it worse, on top of his other crimes.

He was going to find this failure of a priest, this disgrace to their Order, and destroy him.

“Do you know what direction he has gone?” he asked, directing his attention to the priestess for the moment, trusting Anur would keep an eye on the girl in case she decided to try something stupid like attack him.

“He was riding towards Sunhame but there are quite a few branches off that road, I have no idea where exactly he was going to be stationed,” Rhiane said, spreading her hands helplessly, “It didn’t seem important at the time.”

“When did he leave?”

“He rode out after the dawn service this morning,” she replied promptly.

Frost it, he could be _mel_ in many directions by now, even if he had given a future posting to Rhiane it was doubtful that was actually his posting – the man had undoubtedly done this before, it was not the sort of strategy one thought up at the drop of a hat, meaning he had gotten away with this before. How much of that was refusal to believe and how much of that was refusal to _report_ – who would tell a priest that they’d been blackmailed, after all? That would only draw scrutiny as to the reasons, and that would condemn the child they’d already sacrificed so much to save.

To bad this wasn’t a blood-magic hunt, that was easy enough to trace with mage-sight once you had a bit of practice – even Anur’s mindspeaking wasn’t going to help –

_Did you try simply – asking? For help?_

Mouth dry, clinging carefully to that memory, to that bare idea it spawned, he asked carefully, “Did he leave anything behind?”

***===***pagebreak***===***

“So what’s the plan?” Anur murmured, carefully writing out yet another form letter Kir had dictated, Kir himself carefully preparing an incense blend. They were in the sacristy after having torn through the room Anika and Rhiane had indicated as the one Eshkal had used – apparently Anika volunteered her time to tend to the temple and Rhiane had found her shaking as she neared that set of rooms to clean, bringing the whole mess to light in the first place.

Their efforts had turned up a bare few strands of hair left behind, the short brown pieces carefully wrapped in a scrap of wax paper now sitting on the lectern Anur was using as a desk.

“We couldn’t track him, not with what we had at hand,” Kir said bluntly, “He could have gone in any direction and to be frank we can’t afford him getting to Sunhame or any major city – which means we have to find him quickly.”

“And this hair is going to come in handy somehow?” Anur eyed the packet suspiciously, “Why do I have the feeling this is going to be along the lines of the consolation ceremony? Simple in theory, utterly bizarre and terrifying in practice?”

“You have noticed the pattern of our lives, it seems,” Kir replied dryly, continuing, “Truly I don’t know how this is going to work. It is a ritual that hasn’t been used in centuries – I honestly think the last time it was officially recorded was six hundred years ago with that last blood mage, and even then it took a lot of time and research for me to piece together details on how it was performed.”

Anur blinked, then narrowed his eyes and reread his latest copy, asking slowly, “And why exactly is that? If it helps you find people that have fled – enough people escape from the Fires without priestly interference to make it unlikely you actually have one of these rituals available to the priesthood.”

“Because it calls on the Sunlord himself to judge the case and guide the hunter in pursuit,” Kir said quietly, hands stilling, “And it was noted that when modern witches were hunted using this ritual, it was the priest performing the rite who died, not the witch.”

Anur hissed quietly, understanding how a ritual like that, so directly calling on the Sunlord and so clearly showing that those Sunhame defined as witch were innocent of wrongdoing, could be ‘forgotten’. “How do you know about it then?” he asked finally, “It wouldn’t be taught, not with that sort of clue hidden in it.”

“I found it in my search for stories of the old witches,” Kir replied, beginning to grind the herbs again, “And that last bit – it’s more what I figured out than what was explicitly stated. It simply fell out of use after it failed, but with the priests using it reported dead soon afterwards, it was easy enough to piece together.”

“For someone with far too much time spent in a library, maybe,” Anur said dryly, Kir barking a laugh. He wouldn’t be surprised if Kir had hunted down and read every book there was to be had on Firestarting and Firestarters in Sunhame, trying to understand the Order he’d decided on, the history he was going to one day be added to.

It would probably be a much more impressive collection than the paltry set of texts and chronicles on the firestarting Gift he had been able to find in Haven, even after outsourcing his searches to Myste and her minions the numbers were low. He’d had to alter his initial plan of one day presenting the small book with firestarting tips and stories from Valdemar and had instead supplemented it with Heraldic stories and tidbits he’d found on his search for information that were more entertaining than useful. Tracking down the original chronicle of the Demonsbane story and then comparing it to the song?

Suffice to say, a lot of Griffon’s complaints about Bardic license made more sense.

Anur examined his twelfth and final copy, finally setting it aside and continuing, “I’m surprised you’re doing this.”

“I am too,” Kir admitted with a grimace, “But I can’t see any other option.”

“I can’t think of one either,” Anur replied quietly. “What should I do with these?”

“Essentially they are for distribution,” Kir shrugged, “I just don’t know how this rite will work out so having them written out in advance for when we ride through somewhere seemed like a good idea. It also gave you something to do.”

Anur shook his head, gathering the letters and heading out, “I’ll get the horses ready then. When do you want to do this rite?”

“As soon as this incense is finished,” he replied promptly, “The sooner the better. It’ll be in the back meditation garden.”

“I’ll see you there then,” Anur smiled slightly before ducking out of the room and heading for the stables. He’d wrap these notices around his arrows – that should be appropriately dramatic and quick to deliver.

Now to make sure all their supplies were secure and prepare the horses. If he had time he might check to see if the innkeeper had any travel rolls for sale, they usually had some left over breakfast rolls that would do. They’d make for a nice change in diet given their recent days of travel rations.

By the time he had finished with all of that and started back to the meditation gardens, Aelius had finished his own search of the town.

 _:Not a single Gifted in the place – a few potentials but those are buried deep and too young to be Brersi’s younger brother,:_ Aelius reported, Anur nodding and making a mental note to pass that on to Kir as soon as possible, rounding the last corner to the small gardens.

It seemed he hadn’t missed much – Kir had lit the brazier Rhiane had dug out of the sacristy and the incense - a mix he’d never smelled before – was wafting up, curls of smoke undisturbed by Kir circling the brazier with a stick, sketching sigils in the dirt while he murmured prayers.

“What is he doing?” he heard Anika ask the priestess quietly, and he perked up slightly, stopping a few feet away from them so he could hear the answer. It would be interesting to know what the rest of the priesthood knew about this rite, if they even recognized it.

 “It’s an old hunting rite,” Rhiane replied, a confused sort of awe in her voice, “Firestarters would conduct them to hunt witches that escaped – I thought it had been lost!”

“Not lost,” Anur corrected, figuring the implications of it were easy enough to interpret that it was worth saying. At the least it would get them thinking, maybe even wondering, so when Solaris came around there would be plenty of local backing for her changes.

“Not lost,” he repeated, elaborating carefully, “Because if it was found that the individual wasn’t guilty, the one who initiated the rite was struck down.”

There, that left it a little more ambiguous than Kir’s more blunt explanation.

 _:I’m surprised that Kir is using this option. He is truly furious,:_ Aelius commented.

Anur snorted mentally, crossing his arms and waiting for Kir to finish drawing the essentially decorative script. From what he remembered of their late night discussions on rites that actually worked and weren’t just showmanship, those were old sigils indicating the target of the judgement and the accused crimes, things that in the simplest form of the ceremonies were just ‘read’ in the accusers heart and mind. But it looked a lot more impressive like this, and probably also worked as a form of meditation.

 _:Of course he’s furious,:_ Anur scoffed, _:How could he not be? Firestarters are feared enough without other priests actually using them as monster-figures to extort people that_ trust _them. Add in what this Eshkal actually did? I’m impressed that brazier is only smoldering.:_

As it was, there was the occasional heat shimmer left behind when Kir moved quickly, so the brazier smoldering probably had more to do with needing that incense than Kir’s lack of rage. Anur wasn’t too pleased himself – hopefully the bastard would try to flee and he could stick him with an arrow. Wouldn’t do to get out of practice after all.

 _:Valid,:_ Aelius conceded, an undertone of anger in his voice, _:We’ll get him.:_

_:Damn straight we will.:_

“Vkandis Sunlord, Giver of Light, we ask for your judgement,” Kir said finally, standing in front of the brazier and tilting his face towards the sun, the wax packet of hair in hand, “I call this one Oathbreaker!”

One strand, cast into the coals. They flickered, before turning a deep red, heat radiating off them in waves.

“I call this one Outcast!” a second strand, smoke from the incense curling unnaturally in the still air, forming an elaborate spiral and Anur could barely breathe this was entirely –

“I call this one Nameless!”

The moment the third strand hit the coals flames roared up, billowing around Kir in a spiral and pulsing with golden light. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Anika and Rhiane fall to their knees, prostrating themselves in the dirt and his own knees were going a little weak but he tangled his fingers in Aelius’ mane and forced himself to breathe, to watch as Kir’s eyes closed and an utterly peaceful expression appeared on his face.

Even if somehow they _didn’t_ get Eshkal, this entire process and drama was worth it for that brief moment where Anur just knew that Kir was going to be all right.

The flames didn’t so much go out as they were absorbed, settling around Kir’s shoulders like a mantle before fading away.

“Kir?” he asked quietly, feeling vaguely uncomfortable at breaking the stillness, at disturbing this odd peace Kir seemed to have found in this rite, but all thoughts of that darted away when Kir opened his eyes.

His eyes were swirled with glowing gold.

 _Hello, My child_ , rang in his mind like bells, like golden sunlight like water flashing over rocks and Anur found himself on his knees, Aelius standing with his head bowed low, touching the ground with his nose. _You have nothing to fear, Anur Bellamy of Valdemar. You are most welcome in the land of My People, and most welcome in the heart of My son._

Kir’s voice was saying something, speaking to Rhiane and Anika, now kneeling rather than prostrate, but Anur couldn’t hear it – how could it possibly be important compared to this moment, this Voice?

_Join Us in Our Hunt._

***===***pagebreak***===***

If one were to trace a path across Karse, the Hunt from beginning to end would be a straight line. A straight line marked with arrows in temple doors, the echo of pounding hooves and a faint trail of golden light. The moment the Hunt began, a priest now Nameless clutched at his chest and felt a pressing fear weigh down on his shoulders, ignoring all concerned queries in favor of heading for his horse – as if fleeing would do him any good.

The hunters themselves were entirely silent, focus eerily locked on one thing and one thing only.

Finding the one now Nameless, and presenting him to the Sunlord for judgement.

It was morning the day after the hunt had begun when their target came into sight.

And in moments, the entire matter was over.

Anur let an arrow loose, the shot flying true and burying deep in their target’s thigh, any startled cries at the attack on a priest cut off when Kir launched himself out of Riva’s saddle, flames roaring into existence and circling around the collapsed and shaking man. Anur remained on Aelius, pulling another, message-wrapped arrow out of his quiver and notching it, reciting the message aloud from memory.

“Let it be known that the man once called Eshkal, formerly a priest of the Sunlord, has been declared Oathbreaker!” he declared, voice carrying impossibly far as further words carried themselves through his throat, unbidden, “That he is now Nameless and Shunned, that the Sunlord has turned his face from him, that he will reside forever in the darkness!”

“No no no,” the man was panting, eyes rolling in terror, “You can’t do this! You have no right!”

“We can’t do this?” Kir’s voice echoed impossibly, now wholly golden eyes blazing as a mantle of liquid light seemed to settle onto his shoulders, “We have no right? You presume much, Nameless One. For breaking your Oaths, We strip you of your priesthood.”

Ornate robes were burnt to ash, leaving the man in plain clothes with no adornment.

“For violating the sacred trust between priest and parishioner, We strip you of your Name.”

There was no immediately visible reaction to that declaration, but the man shuddered violently nonetheless, curling in on himself as though he had been struck.

“For daring to say We _had no right_ , We strip you of your life.”

It was familiar-yet-not, the soundless scream that tore through the man, going rigid and straight as a column of flame burst out of his mouth before dying, leaving an unmarked corpse in it’s wake. Anur suddenly felt as though he’d come out of a trance – no longer removed from everything, unaffected by the world, and instead he felt the aching in his legs, the grittiness of his eyes from not sleeping for a full day and then some, and removed his arrow from the string, saying, “That was officially the strangest experience of my life.”

“I concur,” Kir gasped, bracing himself on his knees, “Most heartily.”

 _:I vote we never do that again,:_ Aelius managed, shaking his head in a jingle of tack, _:That was… very unnerving. Akin to being on Search, but… not. At all.:_

 _:I second the motion,:_ Anur agreed, remembering that comparison to pass onto Kir when they weren’t being watched. “So, the dead guy?”

“As one who is Nameless, he will be left in a clearing for carrion to deal with,” Kir replied, straightening at last and resting a hand on Riva’s neck for support. “I don’t suppose you have any rope?”

“So now we get to drag his sorry ass out into the forest, fantastic,” Anur grumbled, twisting to look in his packs for rope when one of the villagers that had witnessed the entire thing – because _of course_ they’d caught up with the man when they were in town, and right after the dawn service had concluded if the crowd was any indication – got the courage to speak.

“Your Holiness?” the elderly man questioned, Kir blinking a moment before turning to look at him – apparently only just realizing they had an audience. An audience of people either terrified or awestruck (or both, why be simple) and on their knees.

“Rise, please. I am no Son of Sun,” Kir said, “Simply a Firestarter, doing his duty.”

“More than that,” a new voice said, the temple’s priest finally speaking from the crowd, rising to his feet and working his way forward until he was standing in front of Kir and he bowed lowly, Kir hastily echoing the gesture and sketching the Holy Disk. Anur felt slightly uncomfortable with the weighty silence – he hadn’t noticed it when speaking under the strange Otherness but now it was unmistakable.

“I am Conrad Nichter, Red-robe of the Third Order. This is the town of Auchen, I am the only priest assigned here,” the grey-haired man continued, Anur wanting to groan at the name. The odds were slim that the man was actually related to the currently still suffering Private Nichter (suffering was a strong word, maybe… unfortunate? Strangely and entirely coincidentally unlucky in almost everything he did?) but it was still a reminder he could do without.

“I am Kir Dinesh, Firestarter of the First Order, Chaplain with the 62nd Cavalry, and this is my Enforcer, Lieutenant Anur Bellamy,” Kir replied, the villagers finally unfreezing at this point and beginning to go about their days with an eruption of low murmurs and startled exchanges over just what they had witnessed. Their names and titles figured prominently in the mutters he could overhear.

Anur wondered how long it would take for one of the veterans of the 62nd to hear this story, and how it would grow in the telling.

Maybe the rumors would involve lightning!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Kir's asked for his first miracle... thoughts? Hope it worked, conclusion was rough...


	26. Valdemar's Mage Hunt

“Father Kir?”

Kir looked up from his letters – a rather long one from Devek Korisho, apparently he’d managed to investigate two of the names he’d been given in the past moon and also wanted him to be informed as to the rumors that were spreading about a Firestarter doing good. No names, yet, but once the Oathbreaker story really started spreading he doubted that would last very long.

Balin had a sickly pallor under his tan and Kir immediately set to gathering his letters, “What is it?”

“It’s the Lieutenant Enforcer sir, he’s – he’s acting a little oddly. Is something wrong?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” Kir quickly stood, letters in hand, “Where is he?”

A formality, really. Ever since they’d hunted Eshkal he’d been able to find Anur easily – all he had to do was let his feet carry him. Some residue from what he suspected had been a joint manifestation of the Voice, though he couldn’t be certain.

“Down in the training grounds, far side, sir,” Balin reported, leading the way to the steps closest to them. There was a nice breeze today, making wall-sentry the most valued posting in the summer’s heat.

“The new arrivals?” he asked, because of course they’d had recent transfers two weeks ago, markedly increasing stress levels yet again. After the joint ambush gone wrong last autumn there had been little to no bandit activity, making their cooperation with Valdemar an option rather than a necessity.

It was a good sign that it had continued, moving more towards exchanges of letters and occasional surpluses than exchanges of blood and sweat. Kir was honestly just waiting for Ulrich or Naomi to come up with the idea of joint ventures against Hardorn, or at least providing reinforcements should Hardorn start acting up in this direction again. It was only a matter of time, after all.

“They’d already been briefed,” Balin reassured him, “This just – confirmed it?”

Their brisk walk (running would only alarm people) had quickly brought them to the training grounds in question, Kir able to hear evidence of something odd even before they rounded the last corner. Solid _thwacks_ echoed through the still summer air, but without any of the usual sounds of exertion that weapons practice should bring.

Between that and Balin’s reference to confirmation, he was unsurprised to find Anur standing at the archery range, a blank cast to his features as arrows and knives hurtled themselves towards the targets. The few that had remained to watch immediately relaxed when Kir came into view and, after a curt gesture on his part, were quick to vanish.

“I’ll take it from here, thank you Balin,” he murmured, the scout saluting before following the others’ example. It was one thing to see arrows occasionally twist mid-air in a fight, another entirely to watch them slam shaft-deep into targets with nary a twitch to give away their launch.

A few quick strides took him to Anur’s side and he settled his hand on his friend’s shoulder, asking, “Word from Valdemar, I take it?”

That was the only thing it could be, really. There was nothing within the 62nd that could justify this response, nothing in their increasingly less frequent runs into Karse and their more frequent but not particularly dangerous runs into the dead zone, which left only the Herald’s home country.

“I – Kir I didn’t – it’s just – “ those weapons already in flight fell into the dirt, Anur squeezing his eyes shut and bowing his head.

Pulling his friend into a rough embrace, he rested their foreheads against one another for a moment, a part of his mind wondering at how this gesture had become their most common reassurance. “Calm down,” he said quietly, “We’ll figure this out too, Anur.”

“It’s the princess,” Anur finally murmured, “She’s gone to find mages.”

Kir pulled back and blinked for a moment, trying to piece those sentences into something that would lead his friend to this kind of despairing rage. “The Heir?” he hazarded, Anur’s nod confirming that bit at least, and he mulled it over even as he guided Anur towards the benches ringing the area, sitting down next to him before finally saying ruefully, “You’ll have to give me more than that, I’m afraid.”

Anur chuckled raspily, bracing himself on his knees and saying, “Princess Elspeth, yes. She’s – an assassin nearly got her, got through our guard thanks to mages, all the way to Haven. She’s being sent out now, to find mages for Valdemar. Countering Ancar with Gifts isn’t working, maybe real mages could help, I guess is the thinking.”

“When I first realized there were no mages in Valdemar, I was stunned that your whole country hadn’t just been overrun with hostile mages,” Kir informed him, “As far as I’m concerned it’s about time someone decided to investigate those circumstances.”

“That’s the thing though,” a shudder racked through Anur before he continued, “We know, don’t we? It’s the _vrondi_ , that keep mages from entering without going mad. We know why there aren’t any mages in Valdemar – and there are mages here, in the priesthood! She’s – their sending her, the _Heir_ , out into danger and I have the answers!”

A wretched sort of guilt was building, Kir could nearly taste it, and quickly wrapped an arm around Anur’s shoulders, giving him a quick shake before he said, “Listen to yourself! We know the _vrondi_ drive mages across the borders mad, but what good would that do? If a mage were to cross the borders with hostile intent, driving them mad is the last thing you want! Madmen are unpredictable, and it doesn’t interfere with workings! They’re still _mages_ they still have _power_ , and now they’re insane? Of course your people want safeguards against that!”

“And what if you want mages of your own? Oh, certainly, apparently Heralds can tell the vrondi to leave them alone, or at least not make it obvious that they are present, but do the Heralds have to be in the mage’s presence? Can a Companion do it alone? Are there even enough combat trained Heralds for a one-to-one ratio with mages to work? Unless that barrier of _vrondi_ is either taken down or somehow circumvented on a case-by-case basis, no mages will ever enter Valdemar to fight for her.”

Anur was listening at least, so Kir continued to less practical concerns, “Also, we have no idea _why_ the _vrondi_ are doing that for Valdemar. You have that Truth Spell, so _vrondi_ are used in Valdemar still, but why is that the only piece of ‘real magic’ you have left? Why do the _vrondi_ even care? At a guess, it has something to do with that Last Herald Mage of yours, but that doesn’t answer anything important, if it’s even right. The protection the _vrondi_ afforded Valdemar was one of ignorance. It kept mages from your people because there were less frightening places to go, which meant after centuries of no mages – people forgot about them really existing outside of stories.”

Which made no sense, he didn’t say. Which led to uncomfortable questions about how _Heralds_ , who served as ambassadors, as messengers, who were _trained_ to deal with other kingdoms, could forget about mages, could not find it odd that everyone else had mages while Valdemar had none.

Which led to more uncomfortable and frankly terrifying thoughts about the nature of Companions and just what easy thoughtless access to ones innermost mind and heart could do. Somehow he had come to trust this particular witch-horse, he didn’t have much of a choice when Anur and Aelius were essentially a package deal, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have doubts and questions as to just what sort of power these glowing white horse-things had.

He had been letting it go all these years because there were, frankly, more immediate things to worry about. But it might be time to swallow his disgust and horror so he could approach the witch-horse directly about this.

“Which doesn’t make _sense_!” Anur cried, thumping his fist on his thigh in frustration, “How could we just _forget_ , if they’re such a threat? You’re right, Kir, how is it even _possible_ that this hasn’t been a problem yet? It’s been hundreds of years since we last had mages for Valdemar’s Crown! _Six hundred years_ and _nothing_ to make us question that?”

“I’m sure if you went for the records right after Ashkevron’s death, there would be plenty of panicking about the lack of mages, wondering how they would manage without – but it seems in a generation or two it was forgotten,” Kir shrugged, feeling absurdly relieved that Anur had given this opening, given him this chance to mention things verbally, _aloud_ , without having to resort to cornering a witch-horse.

_:We made them forget.:_

Kir shuddered, curling in on himself, horrified both at the voice and at the statement, Anur grabbing his arm and saying aloud, “Aelius!”

_:He needs to hear this from me. You both do. I am sorry, Kir, but if I did not say this to you directly you would forever wonder if something I said had been misinterpreted by Anur as he relayed things.:_

_:…Point.:_ Kir carefully sent back, Anur’s grip on his arm tightening, though he didn’t say anything.

 _:We, the Companions, made them forget. Herald-Mages were a dying breed when the last were attacked, leading Ashkevron to the north and to his death. It had been a problem, with people thinking Herald-Mages were_ better _than Heralds, were a different class. Even within the Heralds there was that sort of mentality, and in an order of equals, it made things difficult.:_

 _:Resentment, bitterness,:_ Kir’s years as an initiate and acolyte flashed through his mind, _:Why are they so much better, why do they have that sort of power, how could they judge me and mine like that.:_

 _:Exactly,:_ Aelius’ voice was softer at this point, regretful, _:So we simply… encouraged people to forget, to let it go. To not wonder at other nations’ mages and to instead think, they have mages – we have Heralds. Just as good, if not better, because no one expects it.:_

 _:You did it to me too,:_ Anur spoke at last, face white, _:There were questions I had that I just – left for later. That was_ you _!:_

 _:Yes,:_ Aelius said quietly, the regret now a bitter ache, _:There were things that – that I need authorization, to answer. If I asked, they’d wonder how it came up, and then we’d have to explain this whole thing and it just – it spiraled, Chosen. I never hurt you, never had you_ forget _just – just suggested it could be left for later, that there were more important things to think about.:_

_:Do all Companions do this?:_

_:For some things, like mages, like the nature of Companions – yes. For a long time, those sorts of things were to be put off indefinitely, but now – with mages, with Ancar, we don’t force people to not speak of it. I never liked that – Herald Captain Kerowyn ran into it a few times. We’ve been… lightening? Easing? Yes, easing – easing our influence on that matter. So the natural question, where have our mages gone, never vanished, not really. Was just… ignored. For more immediate concerns.:_

_:Ignored for_ six hundredyears _, Aelius,:_ Anur said quietly, _:What gives Companions the right?:_

 _:A longer view,:_ Kir hazarded, hesitantly easing into this mode of speaking – with Anur in his head, it wasn’t so bad. And he had dealt with Aelius before. They were familiar, at least. _:A view that spanned dynasties, rather than decades.:_

 _:That is what the Grove-born are for,:_ Aelius agreed, _:They have lasted through tens of kings, only dying by violence. They are the authority, on those matters. We’ve known for a while that things were going to change soon – no idea how, no idea where, but that change was coming.:_

_:A vague sort of Foresight.:_

_:Indeed.:_

Anur finally rejoined the conversation, asking faintly, _:Will you stop?:_

_:Chosen?:_

_:Will you stop, will you_ promise me, _to never do that again? I can’t just forget Aelius, I can’t just – please.:_

 _:I swear to you Chosen, I will never alter your perceptions or thoughts again,:_ Aelius’ voice was strong, strident as he swore, sincerity in every word, _:I will never allow another to do the same, either. They might try.:_

His voice at the end was decidedly sour, and Kir finally felt he could ask a question that had been bothering him for some time, but he had let go – not because of any outside interference, no, this was purely internal shoving aside. He hadn’t wanted to ask, hadn’t wanted to risk it.

_:How is it then, that you are keeping this from the other Companions? The other Heralds?This sort of… conspiracy, would require collaboration, wouldn’t it?:_

_:Well yes, but – ha – I’ve never exactly been one to toe the line,:_ Aelius gave a rough laugh, and Kir had a sudden flash of the man he’d seen while they sent on the Hardornen ghosts, a mature soldier, scoffing at the demands of the higher ups. It was a tone he was very familiar with by now. _:I never liked it, not really. If we focus so much on maintaining the status quo, keeping things steady, how can there be growth? Change? We were going to start stagnating, soon enough! Peace and quiet brings its own sort of ruin, with nothing to work towards. So others stopped asking my opinion on those matters. I just – kept out of the way. Worked with Anur,:_ the warmth in his voice was unmistakable, _:Did my job and just – waited. For something to change.:_

 _:And then Kir showed up,:_ Anur chuckled mentally, a small quirk of his lips the only indication of amusement on his face. Kir took a brief moment to wonder what this must look like to any observers – decidedly odd, probably. Utterly unnatural.

 _:Unless you’re from Valdemar, in which case you’d get a few rolled eyes and exasperated, ‘Heralds!’,:_ Aelius pointed out, continuing, _:You were broadcasting. And yes, Chosen, then Kir showed up. You were – excited about something. Really looking forward to meeting him, to getting involved. You hadn’t been that excited about anything in_ years _, Chosen. Of course I had to go along with it! Besides that, if this works out with Karse then we’ll have another ally and we could always use those.:_

 _:And if this doesn’t work?:_ Kir asked dryly.

 _:…Well then, I’ve always wanted to see Jkatha. But seriously, I think it will work out. Can’t you feel it? There’s an anticipation in the air, everywhere we’ve gone lately there’s been a sense of_ something coming _. It’s wonderful.:_

 _:But back to the matter of the princess and her quest,:_ Aelius continued, _:I agree with Kir, Chosen. It’s about damned time someone started questioning it, and even better that she’s actually decided to go and_ do _something about it. Ever since she was Chosen there’s been a bit of a buzz around her, a feeling that there was something momentous in her future.:_

_:Oh no – not a glorious destiny!:_

_:No no, Kerowyn got to her young enough,:_ Aelius chortled, a mischevious sort of glee in his voice as he continued, _:She’s going to shake things up!:_

_:And of course you are looking forward to it.:_

_:Could I do anything less?:_

Kir finally chuckled, aloud this time, and Anur apparently took that as a hint, saying, “Kir – are you – are you going to be all right?”

“What with this?” Kir waved his hand at his temple idly, giving him a wry grin, “I suppose I’d better. It is not so bad, with you and Aelius. At least it’s… familiar.”

 “Aelius says he’s sorry,” Anur relayed, “And he’ll try not to do it again.”

“And I appreciate it,” Kir shuddered slightly, “Familiar or not, I still don’t like it.”

“Emergencies only?”

“…Maybe not _only_ ,” Kir murmured, experimenting and trying to present them both with a careful picture of one of the dullest meetings he’d ever attended, with the clear implication that anything to pass the time would be welcome.

“How do you think I made it through boring classes?” Anur gave a delighted laugh, “It’s a deal then!”

_:And I echo my promise to you, Kir. And I will do my level best to ensure no one else speaks in your mind.:_

_:I thank you,:_ Kir said quietly, bumping shoulders with Anur, screams subsiding back into his memories at last, hopefully to stay. _:Three voices in my head is more than enough.:_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And he's finally working past his utter terror of mindspeaking. Took the poor guy long enough :)
> 
> Midwinter is coming! Midwinter is coming!


	27. A Personal Matter

This name had been put off long enough, Kir knew that. But he had been planning to deal with it in a few weeks while Anur was off making requisite appearances with Captain Naomi!

Instead, they had heard rumors of another witch-child being found and had quickly detoured off their planned route and nearly reached the town’s temple when Anur had yanked Kir back around a building and out of sight. Thankfully it was dusk, so almost everyone was in the Sun Setting service at the moment, meaning no one had spotted them yet.

“What is it?” he had asked worriedly, Anur pale faced and sickly looking.

“That acolyte,” the Herald had whispered, “The one at the doors – _he was there_.”

There was only one set of memories that Anur viewed with such horror, with that sort of terror, so Kir had immediately sent him back to the horses with strict instructions to take Aelius and get out of there, to find a traveler’s chapel and wait. He’d find him later. Neither of those two needed to be anywhere near this situation.

So here he was, a mark later, welcomed into the guest priest’s temporary quarters in the temple and drinking insipidly sweet tea, keeping his expression blandly attentive and mildly welcoming, instead of contorted with rage as he so desperately wanted to be.

“I am truly grateful that you happened to be passing through,” the man, a red-robe around his age answering to Cristan, said, “There is always some doubt, when a witch-child is found. I was not trained in identifying them to the extent you have been and to burn an innocent by mistake,” he shuddered, Kir’s eyes narrowing at that gesture; it, and the horror behind it, seemed genuine. More than that, it seemed familiar, seemed guilty – he believed he had burned an innocent then?

“Those mistakes are regrettable,” he murmured, taking another sip of tea and looking towards the fire, keeping the other priest in the corner of his gaze. “It is one reason I travel so widely, it is – a fear of mine, that those found may be mistakenly accused. Some of the Sunlord’s greatest gifts can be mistaken for witchcraft in those unknowing.”

There, that should sow more doubt and possibly cripple the man if he went on to be in a position to accuse more children.

This was assuming Kir actually let him leave the town still breathing, of course.

“I know,” Cristan said, slumping back in his chair and clearly relieved, “It is something I’ve always felt, but never quite dared say. Thank you, Firestarter, for letting me know I’m not alone in feeling this.”

“How have you resolved it?” Kir asked, genuinely curious at this point but not as to the methods, because he knew this man’s methods, instead he was curious as to the _motive_. What had driven him to think torture was an acceptable or even useful way to obtain honest information? One of the first things he had been taught was that people driven by terror or pain will say just about anything to make that terror and pain stop, whether or not it was true.

Meaning torture for gathering information was ridiculously inefficient and pointlessly cruel.

“I found an old truth-telling spell in the texts,” Cristan said eagerly, leaning forward and Kir let his interest show more visibly, the man almost visibly lighting up as he hastened to explain, “It forces people to tell the truth, it’s wonderful for these purposes! It is just – “ he hesitated, before continuing, “It does not force people to respond. And often, those accused of witchcraft will simply refuse to speak, even if they are innocent, because so seldom are they listened to. If anything, those who cry their innocence are more likely to be guilty, since they so fear the Sunlord’s mercy.”

The thinking that brought the last bit about was so utterly twisted in on itself Kir didn’t even know where to start. Apparently his blank stare of shock was interpreted as acceptance and even agreement, as Cristan continued sorrowfully, “So once I get them to speak, I can confirm their innocence, but in order for them to do so, they must actually speak. And one of the surest ways for someone to speak in response to a question is to make not answering verbally have consequences they don’t want to face.”

That was quite possibly the most diplomatically double-faced way he had ever heard torture being described as.

“So you torture them,” Kir said coldly, the other priest flinching away from that statement before nodding, saying softly, “What else could I have done?”

“Tell them that if they are innocent, they must speak, for you can only confirm they are speaking the truth if they actually speak?” Kir suggested sardonically, Cristan scowling and demanding, “You think I did not try that?! They did not believe me at all!”

“And what of those who did protest their innocence, did they all end up admitting guilt when you placed them under the spell?”

“No, not all of them,” Cristan sighed, “but that does not help with those who remain stubbornly silent. I know it is wrong! That it is wretched but I cannot _burn innocents_ , I just _can’t_ , and this way – this way I can _save_ some, I can actually keep innocents _safe_ using this – can’t you see? It is distasteful, but at least they are alive!”

Kir clamped down on his internal revulsion, drawing on decades of experience hiding his true thoughts and letting the man see him lose some of that cold righteousness, let the man see him seem to waver, see him apparently wonder. Cristan leaned forward, utterly sincere as he said, “I know it is distasteful brother, but is not even one innocent saved from the flames worth that sin on our hands?”

“You have given me much to think about,” Kir dodged, bowing his head slightly and rising to his feet, the other priest hastily following, ill-disguised hope on his face. “I shall see you at the Sun Rising service?”

“Of course, of course,” the man sighed, a weary smile on his face as they exchanged benedictions, “Sunlord protect you, Brother Dinesh.”

“Sunlord watch over you, Brother Cristan,” he replied, not quite the proper response but he would not petition for this man’s protection, not when the moment the man called him ‘brother’ he had to struggle to restrain the urge to burn his eyes out.

Retreating quickly before he lost his temper, he found himself standing out in the small meditiation gardens, hidden from sight from the windows of the temple by the cistern. Staring up at the clear night sky, summer constellations slowly being replaced by the winter as autumn stole across the land, he quashed his revulsion, reined in his immediate instinct to burn the man _now_ and wondered.

Cristan was, quite clearly, mad. Maybe just slightly, but there were enough logical holes in his argument that if he were not mad, he were at the very least seriously self-delusional, which was essentially a mild madness, particularly in the form he’d manifested it. Torturing children for days rather than killing them? What sort of life would they have after that? How was there less blood on his hands for that cruel practice than on Kir’s for killing them swiftly? Somehow his definition of mercy had warped, and he had started with a similar base as Kir – believing not all witches were guilty – and ended in something completely different.

Ending in torturing his friend for _four days_.

But in that case, Cristan had been right, had been doing the _proper thing_ , he pointed out, crossing his arms against the sudden chill he felt. Anur was a Herald, a Demon Rider, and therefore an inhuman monster just as much as his White Demon was held to be.

So, as much as he wanted Cristan to die, was killing a man who was simply delusional, who would be no danger at all to Solaris’ Ascent, the right thing to do? Solaris had given him great power, by trusting in his judgement, and in his honest, straining to be unbiased judgement, Cristan was not a threat, nor was he a malicious wrongdoer who needed to be eliminated for the betterment of the priesthood. Not like Eshkal.

He wanted the man dead for his wrongs against Anur, for giving Anur nightmares and driving him to fear flames.

He knew the man did not deserve death for that, because he was not only mad, he had been technically doing the right and proper thing when he had tortured Anur. But that was no excuse, could not be, when he did not allow himself the shelter of orders – or did he hold himself to too high a standard? Was it right to hold others to that same standard, when he would not hold other Firestarters to that standard? How much of his –

Kir closed his eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through his nose. It did not matter, in the end. Because by this time tomorrow, he would be with Anur again, and would have to tell him what had happened to the man who had tortured him.

And he would not give him anything less than that man’s death.

 _For your life_ , he thought at the not-yet-dead man, _I spare your acolytes in the hopes your madness did not spread._

A mental reach, a stretch – and he twisted, the man’s heart ash in his chest and a humming buzz of flittering life faded into silence.

Curious, that the one death he knew had no excuse, had no true reason beyond vengeance, was the one he felt no guilt over and only a sense of vindication. Maybe that would change, given some mental distance and some time to reflect, but he honestly doubted it.

Now to deal with clearing the name of the supposed witch-child.

By the next evening, he had started to feel some remorse, some doubt that he had done the wrong thing for reasonable reasons, but that quickly faded away when he entered the traveler’s chapel and found an exhausted Anur clutching at his hair with shaking hands. Pulling the Herald into a rough embrace, he was able to give low reassurances, honest promises, that the man would never hurt anyone again, and when his brother-in-all finally rested easy, he let the last remnant of his late-blooming guilt die. He had chosen Anur over justifying Solaris’ trust in his judgement, and he would not regret that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Worried here... let me know if it works for you, please!


	28. Spreading the Stories

In taverns, at wells, in shops and on the streets – all across Karse, there were whispers. Whispers of change, of strange power plays, came from Sunhame, from those that served the elite and spread like a wildfire, helped along by the occasional knowing glance, the conspirational smile of one _in the know_.

From the other end, there were stories of strange monsters marching in from the east, wretches from grandmothers’ stories brought to life – and slain with fire. Recitations of an old rhyme, solemnly and seriously passed along, were carried with it.

From all corners, strange tales came of a Firestarter outside of Sunhame, riding through and lightning no Fires, burning no witches – instead appearing in a flare of gold to cry, “Oathbreaker! Nameless!” to a priest, to one of his fellows! Putting fires _out_ in the Comb, offering a mad witch-born merciful death and an honorable pyre out by the Plains, aiding the sick, destroying a monster and purifying a river to the northeast – was it possible, even remotely, that these were true?

Was it possible, even remotely, that these were all the same man?

Half-remembered names, titles and descriptions spawned more, grew ever stranger and more varied before the only thing people could agree upon was that this supposed do-gooder Firestarter was definitely a man, definitely had a name beginning with ‘K’, his surname possibly ended in ‘esh’ and he rode with an Enforcer that had a beautiful paint horse.

The details that remained were disputed, debated, cited with fierce “well _my_ cousin’s best friend’s mother-in-law says - !” and the like.

These details were not cleared up at all by the occasional veteran and more common active Sunsguard who would overhear these whispers and tales, get a gleam in their eyes (mischevious, knowing, conspirational – as varied as the men who had them), before asking, “Have you heard the story where - ?”

***===***pagebreak***===***

“Yes, an Oathbreaker -!”

“Dinesh, you say? You don’t think – “

“Bah, you know how these tales grow in the telling, who knows what piece of it is true!”

Even the disgruntled elder’s voice had hope, Kiara Dinesh thought sourly, eyeing her pint of ale and calculating how quickly she could drain it without getting the hiccups. She’d gotten a lot of crap for being a young female trader captain, even with her older sister leading the way and her ma before her, no need to lose dignity.

She knew what the loudmouths behind her wanted, they wanted her to turn around, ask to hear more, confirm their wild stories supposedly about one of her relatives. There had been rumors, of late, rumors and stories about mad things, insane things, happening all across the country and having one thing in common – a Firestarter setting them to right.

As if one of _those_ nightmarish bastards could set anything aright, she snorted into her cup, taking a deep gulp and glaring out at the autumn rain, the whole reason she’d paused on her way from the docks to home. If she’d realized she’d be trapped here with those blasted _stories_ she’d have dealt with being soaked to the skin.

Grey eyes – _your brother had those eyes,_ her mother’s voice whispered sadly, the one year she’d dared ask why Nana always seemed sad when she saw Kiara – glinted as she heard the voices behind her stumble over the silence, her lack of response unnerving them. _Good_ , she thought viciously, _let them stumble. That’s my family you’re harping on!_

For a brief moment, her heart stuttered, her mind stumbled, as she suddenly recognized that she’d acknowledged this supposed Dinesh, this do-gooder Firestarter, as part of her family, even if only for a moment.

Just as quickly, she shook it aside, swallowed the last of her beer and slammed the mug down, leaving payment before clattering out the door, not caring in the least that her oilskin wasn’t securely fastened.

She had to get out of there, before her wondering mind and too-blasted-hopeful heart took any more of a beating.


	29. Notifications

“Which would be better, you think, a tell all letter or an in person explanation?” Anur asked, looking up from his journal. He’d started it after seeing Kir’s now half-filled book and on finding out he was essentially writing a Chronicle, had panicked because apparently if this Herald-Chronicler Myste found out he hadn’t kept any records, she would kill him.

“For what purpose?” Kir asked, looking up from his own recording – he had only just reached the point where Rethwallen’s army had crossed Karse. His treatment of Gero’s death had filled pages in itself; surprisingly, it had helped.

“Telling them that reports of my presence in the 76th were greatly exaggerated, and I have, in fact, been working in Karse for nearly three years and yes, I did know about Solaris working on a revolution in Karse, didn’t you?” Anur said dryly, eyeing his record doubtfully, “It’s all well and good that I can throw this at Myste and beg for mercy, but from the actionable intelligence perspective…”

“There’s nothing actionable in it,” Kir refuted, “That’s the whole reason you agreed to not report this, Valdemar _could not_ act and if they knew, someone would.”

“Well yes but – there are agents, in Karse. I have no idea who they are, but there are people sent in to gather intelligence, and with the sorts of rumors that are spreading out there they’ll be sending everyone they can spare to figure out what’s going on here – that’s a big risk, Kir. What if something happens to them? Even if nothing does, there’s still the possibility – am I endangering others by being here and keeping silent?” this had clearly been festering for a while, Anur casting his pen aside and beginning to pace, hands locked behind his back.

The small quarters they’d been sharing showed all the signs of cohabitation by now – Anur’s uniforms were hung alongside Kir’s vestments and clothes, two pairs of boots caked in mud were at the door while piles of whittled wood and a basket of cord lurked beside their respective fireside chairs. They’d both taken turns pacing the room and had a route worn in by habit – through the chairs to the hearth, spin on the heel, back around and weave to the right to hug the wall and circle around the small clear floorspace before turning back at the shelves.

He wouldn’t be surprised if there were grooves worn into the wooden floor. Three years of this had meant a lot of pacing, especially with how bad the weather had been these past falls and winters. This was their third day of pouring rain, second such storm this season, and undoubtedly there would be more to come before it became cold enough for snowstorms to replace them.

“Would you endanger more by speaking out?” Kir replied, setting his book aside and twisting in his desk chair to keep his eyes on Anur while he paced. “Agents that would be sent now would be under strict orders to not interfere unless in the most dire of circumstances. If they were sent knowing that Karse could be changing soon, they may take more risks, may even be ordered to take more risks. Right now your silence makes them cautious – they don’t know what to expect.”

“I don’t know that Herald Alberich will buy that,” Anur grimaced, “Or more like the Lord Marshal, Herald Alberich would be considered biased.”

“What, because he is of Karse?” Kir snorted, “Of course he would be biased – Solaris coming into power would mean he is no longer called the Great Traitor, that his name is no longer cursed and condemned for worse than heresy. But by that token, how could any of Valdemar be considered _unbiased_? There is too much bad blood on both sides for there to be no bias at all. I wouldn’t worry about it, Anur. Not until it actually happens, at least.”

_:I, for one, want to see their faces when they realize you’re on payroll with Sunhame_ , _:_ Aelius chimed in, Anur snickering and Kir rather pleased with the fact he’d only twitched at the sudden mental ‘voice’. So long as it was just these two, he could manage without nightmares. He spoke enough with Anur that it was as if nothing had really changed on that front, at least, making Aelius easier to cope with.

“Valid,” Anur said aloud, finally throwing himself back into his chair. “Their faces should be priceless. I need to see at least _one_ person’s myself.”

“In person it is then,” Kir shrugged, “It is something that will have to wait regardless, Solaris hasn’t even Ascended yet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Midwinter is tomorrow midwinter is tomorrow!!! :)
> 
> Now before anyone gets excited about an epic length chapter that has everything ever... no. Sorry.
> 
> I had one of those, but then I was talking with my idea-bouncers and a poignant little bit at the middle of the massive chapter just seemed... better. So, hope it doesn't disappoint! (Bites nails)
> 
> See you tomorrow!


	30. One Midwinter's Day

“We’re not going to make it back for the dawn service,” Anur grimaced, eyeing the lightening eastern sky, “Sorry Kir, hadn’t realized we’d gone out that far.”

“It is not a true problem, on Midwinter’s Day it’s the noon ceremony that’s the most important,” Kir shrugged, Riva slowing to a jog and Aelius doing the same. They’d gone out the day before because Anur was going stir-crazy and Kir wasn’t exactly going to object to the chance to get out of barracks at this point. The night had been pleasant, spent in an abandoned hovel and reminiscent of their first meeting, all expansive gestures and outlandish recounting of events and tales.

Anur’s rather irreverent retelling of Ruelan’s Ascent given his personal interpretation of a Firecat had been particularly hilarious.

“The re-igniting,” Anur nodded, a thoughtful look on his face, “Do Firestarters do that?”

“If one is available,” Kir nodded, “In smaller churches, it’s often ceremonially lit with a torch from the previous year’s flame, no fancy spontaneous ignition necessary. Sunhame’s ceremonies would likely start around now and go until the noon service.”

“That sounds… horrible.”

“It’s beautiful,” Kir said wistfully, “The hymns, the chants – so many people brought together by faith, even if many of them are power-hungry bastards it’s still – it’s beautiful.”

“Beautiful, sure, but I’m pretty sure I’d be starving by the time it was over,” Anur pointed out.

Kir barked a laugh, knowing Anur had been aiming for that reaction, “Godless heathen.”

“But of course,” Anur chuckled, gleam of success in his eyes.

Kir shook his head, looking towards the pink and gold horizon, a strange feeling of peace settling over him. There was just something about today – about this morning, running late for a dawn service, in the company of his brother and watching the sun rise – it just felt… right. Good.

“I have a good feeling about today.”


End file.
